


Legally By 30

by patchfire



Category: Glee
Genre: Bromance, M/M, Puckurt Big Bang, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Married by thirty—legally."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I'm sort of embarrassed to admit it, but I really do want to graduate high school."</i>
</p><p>Will Schuester realizes after Regionals that he should take an interest in more than just a few of his students' lives; during the summer of 2012, Rachel makes each of them in New Directions share a goal they want to achieve by age thirty.</p><p>From Lima to Columbus to Brooklyn, Noah Puckerman searches for the answer to the question of what, exactly, he wants to be when he grows up—and unwittingly stumbles upon love on the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta’d by my darling, raving_liberal. It takes a hard left from canon after 3x14, including my own thoughts on what might or should come afterwards. The lovely banner and the art in chapter 7 are from truebluegleek/kwest300. Thank you!

  


“It’s the last time,” Rachel says mournfully. “The last time it’s going to be like this, you guys.”

“Don’t be sad, girl.” Mercedes shakes her head. “This is exciting! Most of us going on to new things, a few staying here to carry on our torch… we got it good, Rachel Hudson-Berry.”

“I wonder where we’ll all be in the future,” Rachel continues, and Puck shakes his head, standing up to refill his drink. 

Whiskey will make Rachel’s game of let’s pretend more palatable, hopefully, and wasn’t it supposed to be a _celebration_ anyway? Puck feels like celebrating; in February, he wasn’t sure he would actually graduate, but he got a diploma just like the rest of the seniors. The first decent thing Schue had done for Puck in months, actually, and one of the few total; after that conversation in the auditorium, Schue had made Puck meet with Ms. Pillsbury. 

It hadn’t been the most fun thing ever, and involved more actual schoolwork than Puck had done since middle school, but Ms. P had totally found a way to count his pool cleaning business and his steady gig at Westwood as actual classes. It was the weirdest transcript a college would ever see, she’d said, and Puck had just snorted. College. Right. Him? 

Ms. Pillsbury kept pushing, though, made him send in an actual application to OSU-Lima and then started talking about some kind of tests and grants and a bunch of shit Puck doesn’t really understand, but Ms. P finally made him promise to come see her within a week after graduation. 

Puck figures he might as well get it over with the day after graduation, which means the shots of whiskey he’s drinking at the glee club graduation party aren’t the best idea, maybe, but he doubts he’ll understand it any more or less, hangover or no hangover.

“What age?” Tina asks. “I mean, some of you have a year’s headstart on life! And you two,” she points to Rachel and Finn. “You two have a _real_ headstart!”

The Hudson-Berrys (and _that_ is still a mindfuck, if Puck’s being honest) laugh and Rachel blushes a little before they exchange a long kiss, and Puck rolls his eyes behind their backs before he sits back down with the others. 

“Hmm. Thirty!” Rachel declares. “Where we’ll be by thirty!” She actually leaps out of Finn’s arms, and Puck considers writing down that Rachel voluntarily left Finn’s side, as she scurries to her bag. The reason is all too obvious when she comes back with a pink pad of paper and a gold-star topped pen. “Everyone can say their goal and I’ll write it down. I know we won’t all keep in touch continuously, but we have to help each other out with our goals, when we can!”

“How can we help with each other’s goals?” Kurt asks. “If, for instance, you want to be on Broadway, it’s not like any of us are going to be casting a Broadway show.”

“But you can all provide _encouragement_! And who knows, maybe we can help more directly with some of these goals! I’ll go first.”

Puck groans to himself. This isn’t going to go well. Some people will take it seriously, some others will take it completely not seriously, and then Puck’s going to feel a sense of obligation to help Brittany own a cat shelter or something. 

“Nah, Rach, let everyone else go first,” Finn says, smiling dopily at Rachel. Puck would feel bad for thinking his once best friend looks dopey, but Finn doesn’t exactly have time for anyone but Rachel these days, and sometimes Kurt. Probably only Kurt because they’re brothers, because Sam lives in the same house as Kurt, and Sam’s definitely lumped in with the rest of them. 

Then again, that might be Sam’s choice. The Hudson-Berrys divide their time week by week between the Hudmel house and the Berry house, and the weeks that the Hudson-Berrys are in residence at the Hudmel house, Puck definitely sees even more of Sam, and all of the guys tend to congregate elsewhere. Kurt never says a word about it, just looks long-suffering. At first, Blaine tried to cheer him up, but Puck guesses that after a few months of it, they both got sick of the relationship being about everyone else but them. Kurt was the one to officially end the relationship, but at least it seems amicable. The only real difference, as far as Puck can tell, is that Kurt’s gone on a couple of dates with that Sebastian kid, which is _weird_ , and Blaine and Kurt don’t hold hands any more. 

“Oh, all right.” Rachel looks to her other side, where Quinn is sitting, and while Puck’s never going to be in love with her again, the sight of her awake, smiling, and not in that damn wheelchair is a really, really good one. “Quinn?”

“I want to have earned some kind of televised award for acting,” Quinn says with a small smile. “I’m not picky. It doesn’t _have_ to be an Oscar or an Emmy. I’ll even settle for People’s Choice.” She laughs and after a moment, most of the rest of them do, too. “It just has to be an awards show shown on national television.” Quinn looks over at Santana and Brittany, sitting beside her. “Girls?”

“I want to own a treatment program for cats that are addicted,” Brittany says, and Puck shakes his head at how close he came to guessing. “Inpatient residential treatment so they can get back to a life of purring and non-addictive catnip usage.” 

To Rachel’s credit, she doesn’t falter before adding Brittany’s goal to her notes, just starts writing underneath where she transcribed Quinn’s goal. 

“I just want to be flattop and jicama free,” Santana says, and Puck gets what she’s saying. How can they predict what they’ll want as a goal, even two or three years from now. Puck’s goals changed just since sophomore year. 

“I still want to buy my parents a house.” Sam shrugs. “If I manage to do it before age thirty, yeah, that’d be completely awesome.”

Mercedes looks almost sheepish, which is odd, so Puck decides he’ll wait to get another rum and Coke, and hear what she comes up with instead. “I’ve never told _anyone_ this,” she says, “but I really want to be on _American Idol_. So I guess in terms of my goal–I want to be in the top twenty-four. But if I make there, you guys need to vote for me!”

The next two are Rory and Blaine, and Puck doesn’t care that much, so that seems like a great time to get another drink, and some food, too, which means Puck sits down as Artie’s telling them all about his goal. “Cannes or Sundance or another major indie film festival, I want to show one of my movies someplace like that, definitely.”

“That sounds so cool, Artie,” Tina says. “My goal is a terminal degree in whatever field I end up choosing. PhD, MFA, JD, MD, whatever it is. I don’t know what I want to do, but I have another few months to choose colleges, even.”

“Dance at Carnegie Hall,” Mike says, like it’s self-explanatory, and it more or less is. 

That means it’s Puck’s turn, though, and like Santana, he’s not sure he wants to give an honest, heartfelt answer, even if he knew one off the top of his head. He wants his sister to graduate high school. He wants to get out of Lima. He wants to see Beth again, but Shelby asked him not to contact her until at least September, so he’s waiting for that. 

“Recording contract,” Puck throws out, because it’s something _expected_ out of him. And, well, hell, if one of them managed to help him actually get one? That would get him out of Lima, help him help his sister, and definitely up his chances of seeing Beth again. 

“Wow, these are all so different!” Rachel gushes before Kurt can start. “So amazing, you guys. Kurt? What’s yours? Broadway?”

“Broadway isn’t a goal, Rachel, it’s destiny.” Kurt smirks at her briefly before sobering. “No, unlike some of you who don’t have to consider such things, my goal is shockingly simple. I’d like to be married _legally_ by age thirty. Preferably in any state I visit, but I’ll settle for it being legal in my state of residence, if necessary.”

It’s one of the few times Puck’s heard that level of bitterness out of Kurt, but he’s not surprised. The first week that the Hudson-Berrys were at the Hudmel house, Kurt and Sam had met Puck at the movie theatre, the rest of the guys all doing something else or working. After the movie, Puck had asked what it was like, living with the newlyweds, and Kurt had just exploded. 

“It’s all a big _lark_ to them,” he’d said, face contorted. “Oh, look! We can just go to the justice of the peace and make a lifetime commitment practically on the spur of the moment. Congratulations to us! With this piece of paper, we can go anywhere we want to go in the country and people will automatically recognize our marriage, as ill-conceived and hastily arranged as it is!” Kurt had scowled at Sam and Puck. “I know, it’s not your faults. But how _hard_ it is for me if I want to get married, the legal hoops I have to jump through just to get the same rights they paid fifty dollars in cash for! And were granted immediately!”

So, no, Puck isn’t particularly surprised by the hint of bitterness, but apparently he and Sam and Blaine were the only people who knew about it, because the rest of them, including Finn, look a little stunned. Rachel does take a little longer to start writing, this time, and she has to prod Finn to share his goal. 

“Uh, oh, I don’t know,” Finn says. “I mean, I already have a lot of great stuff in my life.” Another dopey smile at Rachel, and Puck wonders if maybe they should record Finn and show him how he looks. “But, uh, you know, like Mercedes, I never really told anyone this before, but I’ve always wanted to own a pizza parlor.”

There’s some laughter, starting with Rachel, and Finn looks briefly surprised for a moment before he starts to laugh as well. Puck shakes his head. If it weren’t totally douchey, he’d start a pool on what year the divorce happens. Unfortunately, he’s already been informed by four different parties of facts that mean no one can bet on an annulment instead. 

“Well, as you all probably guessed, my goal is to have a starring role in a Broadway production.” She’s right; they all pretty much guessed that, and Puck even wonders if the entire exercise wasn’t so Rachel would have an excuse to update them all on her ‘progress’ for the next twelve or thirteen years. 

What kind of parents were the Berrys, anyway, letting a seventeen year old get married? Rachel’s not even turning eighteen until December. 

“I’ll type all of these up,” Rachel says, “and post them on our Facebook group, and we’ll keep each other updated on our progress and things. If someone needs help, I’ll let everyone know. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll be in touch!”

Yeah, definitely a plot to keep them all updated on _her_ life, and Puck sort of doubts they’ll be asked to help with anyone else’s goals. It’s not like any of them are going to be able to send Sam money. On the other hand, he supposes some people like encouragement, and it’s not like any of them wouldn’t volunteer to get marriage equality passed wherever they are. 

Puck shrugs and goes to get another drink. If Rachel doesn’t keep up with it, no harm, no foul. And if she does? Puck can probably bother to send an encouraging email or two to at least some of them. Probably emailing gross jicama recipes would be enough to help Santana out.


	2. Chapter 2

Puck has to admit that he’s surprised when Rachel does, in fact, ask for updates and then compile what everyone sends her, blasting them with periodic emails. The emails are fast and furious for the first year; Tina, Artie, and Blaine ask for help with college application essays and then proudly announce their acceptances, and there are other periodic small victories, at least for some of them. 

Puck doesn’t bother to send in anything about himself. He acknowledges getting them; when he ignored the first one, Rachel had started calling him every three hours until he finally picked up and answered her. But Puck doesn’t have anything much to report, and when they have a miniature reunion of sorts in the summer of 2013, he keeps his mouth more or less shut about what he’s been up to. 

What he’s been doing is working hard. When he went to see Ms. Pillsbury after graduation, he found himself agreeing to take some kind of tests that would give him credit for college classes, and he’s spent most of the year since graduation reviewing for one or another of those tests. He started classes at OSU-Lima two weeks after graduation, though not a full load until the fall. Grants only cover so much of the cost, and Puck’s not sure what on earth he’s doing, trying college, but the Schues (since Ms. P totally changed her name) make him have dinner with them once a month, in an apparent attempt to keep him on track. It’s hard not to appreciate it. Schue usually brings along a few bags of groceries, which he gives to Puck without a word, and Puck’s not sure why it took graduation for Schue to realize Puck’s life really was headed nowhere, but having someone trying to help means more than it probably should. 

His pool cleaning at Westwood turns into a full-fledged part-time job by September after graduation, not just maintaining the pool, but helping out at the front desk, and in December, his manager pays for him to go through lifeguard training. By March, Puck’s scraped up enough to do basic coursework to be a personal trainer, and it’s not something he wants to do for the rest of his life, but the pay increase is huge, and enough for Puck to finally take formal lessons for guitar and piano, like he’s wanted to his entire life. 

He gets to see Beth again, too, at Hanukkah, and he asks the Schues to come along and help him talk to Shelby. Shelby’s back in Columbus, and somehow the outcome of the meeting is him being involved in Beth’s life, along with some kind of crazy longterm plan to transfer his job to Columbus and enroll at the main OSU campus eventually. 

He doesn’t tell any of his friends about it that summer, not when all of them get drunk and go swimming, not when they see so many movies that the movie theater employees know them by name. 

What Puck does notice is who does and doesn’t talk. Rachel gushes about New York; Finn just grimaces politely when asked and says that really, whoever is asking should talk to Rachel, because she knows more about it than he does. Kurt is barely in Lima, and the two times Puck sees him, he doesn’t volunteer information to anyone. Sam doesn’t drive up; the new graduates are just excited about starting college in the fall. The one thing that they all do as a group is roadtrip to Indianapolis for Mercedes to audition for _American Idol_. She gets her ticket to Hollywood or whatever, and Puck figures it’s possible the group of them will get a few minutes of airtime, because they do sort of stand out. He makes a mental note to remind his sister to keep an eye out for them in January. 

The emails slow down the next year. There’s texted reminders to vote for Mercedes, until her eventual ouster, but being one of eight remaining sounds like she did really well, in Puck’s estimation. For his part, Puck doesn’t see many of the glee club kids that summer; he decides to pick up an extra ten hours a week, so he can pay for extra time with guitar and piano, and the only break he allows himself is a weekend to drive down below Cincinnati to see Sam. 

“You’ve never said what you’ve been doing,” Sam points out as they walk into a bar near Sam’s college. 

“You don’t either.”

“You caught me.” Sam laughs. “I’m actually majoring in elementary education. I think I’ll be good at it, you know? And in the summers I can work at Kings Island or something.”

“Dude, yeah, you’ll be awesome at that. Making them laugh with your impressions and shit.”

“Hope so, anyway. Not seeing anyone, really. Maybe senior year, you know? But not now.”

“I hear you. I think the longest relationship I’ve had in the last two years was about two weeks.”

“Lots of one night stands, huh?” Sam laughs. “You always could collect ‘em, Puck.”

“Not so much,” Puck admits. “I mean, yeah, a few, but. Between work and school and my sister, I just don’t have the energy to date even if I found a few hours.” 

“Yeah? What’re you studying?”

“Right now, business. Once I transfer I’m going to add on music. I’m moving to Columbus in January.”

“Get out! OSU?”

“Yeah, main campus. Westwood’s got a sister facility out there, I can transfer my job pretty easy.”

“Still cleaning pools?’

Puck laughs. “Yeah, for extra cash, but most I lifeguard or do personal training. Not what I want to do forever, but damn, the pay’s awesome on personal training.”

“I bet,” Sam says, looking a little envious.

“You know, you could do personal training part time. In between teaching and amusement parks. Online certification, it’s not _cheap_ , but it paid for itself in two months.”

“Yeah? How good are we talking?”

“Well, right now, I ceiling out, ‘cause it’s through Westwood, but honestly, once I get to Columbus, I’m going to look for another part-time job and go independent on the personal training. One of the national music chains maybe, for the job.” Puck lowers his voice. “Beth’s in Columbus, but Shelby won’t stay there forever. I want to be ready to follow Beth if I decide to. Regional health clubs? Not going to help there.”

It isn’t until January or February, once Puck’s in Columbus, deciding to go by Noah and crammed into a four-person dorm room, that he gets another ‘progress’ email from Rachel. It takes him two days to register that the sender’s name was “Rachel Berry” and not “Rachel Hudson-Berry.”

Noah falls into joining the campus GSA, because he figures that he’s far enough away from Lima now to admit to himself and other people that his one night stands and relationships since high school haven’t all been with females. In March, he sends an email to Kurt, asking him what happened to the Hudson-Berrys. 

The email he gets back is long. The divorce took longer to even be discussed than any of them thought it would, mainly because Rachel and Finn are both horribly stubborn, but eventually it had been Finn to pull the plug. 

_I don’t see Rachel much; for all that she was once one of my best friends, it’s been years now since I called her that, and Finn is still my brother. He’s back in Lima for a few months, but then he’s going somewhere. I really don’t know where, yet, but ironically, it’s only now that he’s started talking about_ his _dreams and not Rachel’s. Somewhere in there is the guy that wanted to own a pizza parlor. I miss living in the same city as my brother, but this is better for him, for now, I think._

Noah waits another month before sending a ‘congratulations on your divorce’ card to Finn, care of Burt and Carole, and he tucks one of his brand-new business cards in it. Independent personal trainers aren’t in horribly high demand, but if he can get just a few guys who have a lot of friends, he’ll be set. In June, he gets a job as an assistant manager at GuitarCenter, and for the rest of 2015, he builds his client list, goes to class, decides that he really likes working at GuitarCenter, and dates, in rapid succession, Becca, Brandon, Micah, and Trish.

The next year, Rachel starts up her emails again, and Noah starts talking more and more to Sam, who’s trying to figure out where to work after he graduates in May. It turns out that Finn lands in Cincinnati, and he hangs out with Sam a few times, until Sam decides to look for a job near Columbus. 

Noah’s personal training company expands into an actual partnership, and between the two of them, they can offer an appointment at most times of the day or evening. They don’t actually see each other often, especially with Noah’s new boyfriend and Sam’s new girlfriend, but it’s a good life, and Noah forgets that he won’t necessarily be staying in Columbus after graduation. 

It’s in the middle of fall semester when things seem to start happening. Rachel sends out an excited email about her first chorus role on Broadway. Among the other updates are instructions for buying tickets for Mike’s Carnegie Hall debut, and Tina talking about her MFA applications. Quinn’s in Hollywood, going to audition after audition, and Brittany actually has managed to buy a house for her cat treatment center. 

A week later, Noah’s visiting Beth when Shelby drops the news. 

“We’re moving to New York after Hanukkah, Noah. I know you want to continue to see Beth, and of course I support that desire, but the opportunity arose and I had to take it.”

“No, I get it. I just forgot for a while that you weren’t going to be here forever. The city?” Shelby nods. “Well, I won’t graduate until next December, but, after that, I guess I’ll put in for a transfer.”

“I’m sorry you’ll lose your client base, Noah, I never meant for you to–”

“I’m still only twenty-two, Shelby. I can start over. It’s a nice job, yeah, and it pays for school and then some, but it’s not what I want to do forever. Even if it was, Beth’s more important.”

Noah goes home and makes his annual contribution to Equality Ohio and figures that he’ll keep doing that, anyway, since marriage equality is safe and sound in New York. It’s not like he can help Sam more than he already has–Sam’s share of the profit from their business goes into an account for a house for his parents–and he can only be encouraging for everyone else. Oh, and buy tickets for one of three nights that Mike will be dancing at Carnegie Hall. Rachel had suggested they all try for the Saturday night; Noah books his for Thursday, flight in three hours before, flight out two hours after. He can’t afford to take a weekend off, no matter how much he wants to support Mike, and he’s not sure he wants to see most of the rest of them anyway. 

He ends up seeing two others there that he knows: Kurt and Finn. He should have guessed Finn would have avoided the show his ex-wife was attending, and it makes sense that Kurt would go whichever night Finn chose. Because of his flight, Noah doesn’t spend much time talking to them, just enough to know that Finn, in some weird twist of fate, is legitimately on his way to owning a pizza parlor–he’s manager at a locally-owned place in Cincinnati, saving up in hopes of buying it when the owner retires. They make tentative plans to get together for a drink the next time Kurt’s somewhere in the state of Ohio. 

Noah doesn’t mention anything about not being quite done, still, with college, or how he has a boyfriend, not a girlfriend, or anything else about his life, really. He thinks about it, but this is his life, the one he created, and as much as he knows he’ll always be friends on some level with the kids from Lima, that was another life. It’s almost a relief to land in Columbus and drive back to his tiny apartment, to meet Jeremy for breakfast in the morning, and he wonders if he can manage to keep from seeing anyone he knows once he moves to New York. 

 

“Ooh, look what came today in Noah’s mail!”

“Jeremy.” Noah rolls his eyes. “Cut it out.”

“No, look, it’s the official invitation for your reunion! ‘Noah Puckerman, Class of 2012, William McKinley High School’.”

“I told you, Jer, I’m not going.”

“Why not?” Jeremy protests, flopping onto the couch adjacent to Noah’s desk. “Five years! More than that, since it’s in October. You can see who’s fat, who’s skinny, who’s still hot, who’s not. What’s not to love about a reunion?”

“For starters, that I can’t afford to take off an entire weekend?” Noah argues. 

“You’re _salary_ now.”

“Yeah, and with that comes a lot of responsibility. Plus I need my off days in November and December.” Noah shakes his head and frowns at the book in front of him. “And I have a fucking midterm the Monday after the reunion.”

“Ha! So you did think about going.”

“Yeah, I looked at the calendar.” Noah rolls his eyes again. “And realized that even if I had a sudden and overwhelming desire to attend, I couldn’t.”

“I bet you have enough days off.” Jeremy sits up. “Think about it! Maybe don’t go for the whole weekend. We could drive up just before the main party, I’ll be the designated driver and drive you back that night! You can sleep in the car and still make it to work the next morning!”

“Why are you so damn fixated on me going? And I’d just go myself.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you just go yourself?”

Noah looks at Jeremy blankly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because there’s a ‘plus one’ and for the past fourteen months, that’s been me?”

Noah sighs. He knew this was going to go badly if it came up; the question is just how badly. “Jer.”

“I know, I know, it’s high school, it’s Lima, it’s not Columbus, but Sam knows about us, and surely you won’t be the only guy there with another guy.”

“No, I wouldn’t be.” 

“So what’s the holdup?” 

“I told you, I don’t have the time to go.”

“And you don’t _want_ to take me,” Jeremy adds quietly. “No one in Lima knows you’re bi, do they?”

“You met my sister!”

Jeremy snorts and rolls his eyes. “No one that you went to school with, except Sam. None of those other faces in that picture from New York City, or from your graduation. Your friend from Lima that you talk to–”

“–I met at OSU-Lima. Yep.” Noah nods. “Look, I’m the one that got left behind, okay? And yeah, I know that in a year, I’m not even going to be here in Ohio anymore. But I was in Lima even after Tina and Artie graduated, and I was the one that was already there when people came home to visit for the holidays. And the first year I was here? No one noticed that I wasn’t there. Nine of ‘em got together, posted about it on fucking Facebook, and then they tagged it with how much they missed Kurt and Artie. Nothing about fucking Puckerman. Okay? They’ve made it pretty clear they have no use for me, and frankly, if they want to remember as a homophobic manwhore, they can.”

“Yeah, right.” Jeremy snorts again, and Noah curses how well Jeremy knows him. “What you mean is, you don’t want to go back there and admit that you have a boyfriend, and that I’m not even your first boyfriend. You don’t want to go back there and admit that you haven’t finished your degree yet, or that you are still in Columbus for another year, or any of a number of things that you’re going to compare yourself to them over.”

Noah draws back, stung. “Fuck you! Some of us don’t have Daddy willing to pay for a full ride even when we get straight C minuses!”

“I work!”

“You work ten hours a week in the school gym!” Noah growls. “Fucking Christ, Jer. Why do I have to be your fucking bi pride ticker tape parade?”

“Why can’t you at least be proud of yourself?”

“And proud of you, you mean,” Noah shoots back. “I get it. You want me to go to my fucking reunion so you can waltz in on my arm and try to shock them with how faux-flamboyant you are, shock them by talking about I’m bi and didn’t anyone see that coming or whatever other talking point you pick.” Noah shakes his head. “I’m a lot of things, but I don’t want to be your fucking poster boy. Or your fucking accessory.”

As soon as he says the words, Noah feels his stomach drop. His mind flashes to a few uncomfortable parties, a couple of events where Jeremy’s dragged him, how Jeremy made sure he looked a certain way. He _was_ Jeremy’s fucking accessory. The straight-seeming bisexual business major who was also majoring in music! Fuck.

“Maybe you’d better leave,” Noah says into the silence. 

“Noah.”

“I said, maybe you’d better leave.”

“Noah, wait. Let me–”

“Let you what? Convince me that I’m wrong? Distract me with your cock?” He smirks a little. “That’s what it is, right? You want to get naked, help me ‘forget’, hope that I’ll drop it by the time you’re up in the morning?”

“No, that’s not–”

“Yeah, it fucking is. It’s what you’ve done every time we’ve argued. Christ, I’m an idiot.” Noah shakes his head. “Leave, Jer.”

“Are you–are you breaking up with me?”

Noah rolls his eyes. “Jeremy, we both knew this wasn’t gonna last forever. I’m leaving in January. You aren’t going to move to New York, no matter what ridiculous fantasies you have about owning a hot dog cart. It was going to be over in a few months. I’m just ending it a little earlier than planned. Probably better. I need to actually finish my assignments this semester, not get distracted by blow jobs.”

“Noah!”

“Look Jer. Just… leave, okay? I’ll bring your shit by the gym on Tuesday.”

“Fine!” Jeremy’s temper finally flares. “I hope you know just what you’re giving up, Noah Puckerman!”

“Yeah, drama!” Noah fires back. 

“Oh, you love the drama!” Jeremy shakes his head in the doorway. “Just send me a wedding invitation one day. I bet he’ll be worse than me!” With that retort, Jeremy slams the apartment door, and Noah sighs, resting his head on his textbook. 

Yeah, he knows what he was giving up. Really awesome blowjobs that made fantastic study breaks, amongst other things, and even if Jeremy hadn’t been the one… well. It hurt, was all, and the only remedy for that is switching gears from his business seminar to one of his jazz classes. 

 

Noah gets three messages the Sunday after the reunion, either asking why he didn’t show or saying that they missed him or both: Rachel, Finn, and Mike. Sam texts him on Monday morning and says they ought to grab lunch and he’ll tell Noah all about it. 

The truth is, they’ve also got to figure out what to do about Noah’s half of the business when Noah moves. He can’t afford to give up the money too many months out, but no one wants to be handed over cold turkey. Neither he or Sam really want to split a client’s payment too often. 

So he agrees to lunch the next day, and they spend the first twenty minutes going over Noah’s client list. The ones that only make appointments when it’s been more than a month, all fifteen of those, get put on a list for Noah to ‘give them some recommendations’ the next time they call. Another ten or so Sam decides to pick up, even if he has to drop some of his own infrequent flyers, and that only leaves about eight in limbo. Noah briefly wonders if he could convince any of them to move to New York, so he’d have a few clients at the ready. 

“So, the reunion,” Sam says as their entrees arrive. “That was amusing, let me tell you.”

“Yeah?” Noah shakes his head. “I think I’m glad I had the excuse of work and travel in a couple of months, too.”

“Well, Santana showed up with some girl who _does_ have a flattop and then spent half the night making fun of Brittany’s ‘date’.” Sam makes air quotes when he says ‘date’.

“Who did Britt bring?”

“A cat,” Sam says, wincing slightly. “Apparently one of her therapy animals or something. The poor cat was wearing a coat or something with Brittany’s business details on it. I think she handed out twenty or thirty business cards—Brittany, not the cat.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, if the cat had handed out business cards, that would have been impressive. So I take it they didn’t split amicably?”

“Yeah, I’m guessing not! Finn brought some girl from Cincinnati. She was sweet and gorgeous but he told me afterward that she’s just a friend. Co-worker’s wife or something, volunteered to come when he was bitching about his ex-wife being at the reunion.”

“Well-played, Finny boy, well-played.” Noah grins. “I’ll have to send him a message telling him good job there.”

“Right?” Sam laughs. “Honestly, he seems pretty happy now, though. Rachel brought some guy from her latest Broadway show; pretty sure he was gay, if you ask me, but Rachel either is oblivious or thought we wouldn’t notice.”

“Or was hoping Finn wouldn’t notice.”

“Bingo.” Sam shakes his head. “Kurt didn’t show. Finn said something about being too busy with a new job, or trying to get a new job, or something like that. I wasn’t sure if it was Kurt who’d been vague with Finn or if Finn just didn’t grok it.”

“Possibly a combination of both. I ran into both of them in February, when I went to see Mike dance?” Noah waits for Sam’s nod before continuing. “And every time I tried to ask anything about Kurt’s life, he’d just start talking about something in the city. I know a lot about places he likes to eat and even his dry cleaners, but how he pays for food and clothes and shit? Not a clue.” Noah shrugs. “Then again, I did a passable job of doing the same. Talked about Columbus and personal training being a good temporary job.”

“It’s a _fantastic_ temporary job,” Sam agrees. “He didn’t ask what your idea of a good permanent job was?”

“Well, he did, but I answered that one honestly—I have no fucking clue!” Noah laughs. 

“You’ll figure out it, dude,” Sam reassures him. The server brings the check and when Noah reaches for his wallet, Sam shakes his head. “This one’s on me. You’re still a student.”

Noah snorts. “Yeah, you’re a first grade teacher who had to trade carpool duty for five days straight just to get the time to meet me for lunch.”

“Yeah, I actually like carpool duty better than cafeteria duty, so really, I’m the winner in this scenario.” Sam grins. “Anyway, not like you’re going to be around this joint much longer, dude. Gotta have lunch with you while I can.” 

“Sorry, Sam. Not going to fly back to Ohio just to have lunch with you.” Noah grins and lets Sam cover the cost of lunch. The truth is, thanks to the business, they both have plenty of money, whatever their overt occupations might be. About half of the clients pay cash, anyway, and Noah has to admit he doesn’t always report that income. He should, and now that he’s not trying to milk the financial aid system, he’s reporting more, but he thinks it’s pretty dumb that the harder he works, the more he gets punished, at least as far as financial aid goes. 

“Didn’t figure you were,” Sam admits. “Didn’t figure you were.”

The next month passes in a haze of midterms and work. November is more work and starting the process of transferring to a store in New York City, as well as starting to look at real estate ads. Yeah, Noah’d figured that it wasn’t going to be cheap, living in New York, but doubling his monthly rent? He hadn’t expected that. 

December and graduation finally arrive, and Noah can’t really blame his mom for her exclamations about how she never thought she’d see the day he graduated from college, because he hadn’t really, either. He invites the Schuesters to come to graduation, too, and they do, which means he has a whopping six people at his graduation: his mom, his sister, the Schuesters, and Sam and his girlfriend, Jordan. 

January sucks, because his new job doesn’t start until February 5, but his last day in Columbus is mid-January and most of his clients are gone. When he mentions that he’s moving to New York City, though, two of them mention that they frequently take business trips to the city, and another three have multiple friends that they recommend him to, so he actually has some personal training appointments his first week in the city. 

Another one of Rachel’s now-irregularly timed missives appears in his email in January. The reason for it is quickly apparent: she, herself, has accomplished her goal. The lead role in a new musical, opening in three weeks, et cetera. Noah shakes his head and skims the rest of the wordy letter. As Sam had reported, Brittany does, in fact, have a cat counseling and treatment program up and running, which means that’s another one of them with a goal completed. She also briefly mentions that more and more states now have marriage equality, and Noah nods. With the federal Supreme Court finally striking down DOMA just a few weeks before, it seems to be the consensus that it’s merely a matter of time. Still, it’s a good reminder to all of them to keep the fight going, and Noah sends off one last donation to Equality Ohio as an Ohio resident. 

Noah sells all of his furniture and spends his last week in Ohio sleeping on Sam’s fold-out couch, shipping the few things he wants ahead of him. He managed to find a cheaper apartment in what’s apparently not so great of a neighborhood of Brooklyn, but it’s close to a subway stop with the train he needs to catch to get over to Manhattan, and he’s willing to look over his shoulder on occasion for three or four hundred a month. 

It takes him the rest of February to unpack his boxes and hit up Ikea for new shelves, couch, table, chairs, and bed. Since he’s a shift manager, he doesn’t really make any great friends amongst his co-workers; the people working at the same time as him are mostly college kids and college drop-outs, and some of them seem resentful of his authority. The other shift managers obviously don’t work at the same time that Noah does, so once March hits, Noah decides it’s time to use his off hours for two purposes, not just one. He finds a local club, the Asphalt Roof, and starts going there after work most nights, sometimes playing and sometimes listening to the other acts. The rest of the time he does devote to rebuilding a client list, but this time around, he’s learned a few lessons. Weekly clients or monthly clients only, and the monthly clients have to commit to a specific day each month—third Monday, second Wednesday, whatever. 

By July, he’s got a steady client roster, a few friends to hang out with, a handle on the new job, and a sometimes-date named Amelia. They both know it’s not really serious, but they’re both relatively new to the city, both enjoy music, and both want someone else to explore the city with, so it works. 

Sam calls him up in August. “Dude, you won’t believe this!”

“Probably not. Long time, no actual talking, Sammy boy. You forget how to do anything but type?”

“My voice just now recovered from the past school year!”

“I bet! So what’s your news?”

“First of all,” and Noah can hear the huge grin on Sam’s face across the phone, “I asked Jordan to marry me!”

“And she didn’t run screaming?” Noah laughs. “No, congratulations, Sam. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, man. Listen, the wedding’s going to be small, but I’d love to have you stand up with me.”

“Dude. Of course. Just tell me when.”

“Soon.” Sam laughs. “I don’t want her to change her mind. Anyway, I took her down to the zoo in Cincinnati and asked her in front of the penguins, because she loves penguins. And I figured we’d grab some lunch afterward, so I swung by the place Finn works.”

“Yeah? How’s Finn doing?”

“Get this. He owns it. He fucking owns a pizza parlor.”

“Get out.” Noah laughs, startling the people walking past him on the sidewalk. “He bought the place?”

“Old owner wanted to retire, travel the country in his RV or something. Finn signed the paperwork on the first.” 

“Well, damn. I bet that’s a bitter pill for Rachel to swallow. Divorcing her was the best thing he ever did.”

“Then again, you could argue marrying her was the worst, so…” Sam trails off. “I think that I’m the first one of us to even think about it, after that debacle.”

“Ooh, big words, Mr. Evans.” Noah laughs. “Do you ever look around for your dad when the kids talk to you?”

“Just when the parents do,” Sam admits. 

Noah snorts. “Yeah, I bet. But yeah, I think you are the first one to consider taking the big plunge.”

“Well, I think Blaine’s goal was a partner _and_ a kid by thirty, so he might should get cracking.”

“He’s got an extra year, remember?” Noah counters. “At least it looks like Kurt really will be legally married in all fifty states, even if he can’t _get_ married in all of them yet.”

“Good point. Hell, you could end up needing it.”

“Not getting married anytime soon.” Noah shakes his head. “Not to anyone.”

“Uh-huh. That’s what I said until I met Jordan. Just you wait, Noah Puckerman. Who knows who you’ll meet?”

“Yeah, right.” Noah shakes his head. “I guarantee you I won’t be seeing Amelia by the time you get married.”

“Oh, I know you aren’t marrying _her_. Just saying that you could meet Ms. or Mr. Right at any moment.”


	3. Chapter 3

“No plus one?” is how Sam greets Noah at the Cleveland airport three days before the wedding.

“No plus one.”

“Still dating Amelia?”

Noah shrugs. “Tyler. Better taste in beer, worse taste in music, looks better in a suit.”

“Looks worse in high heels?”

“Haven’t seen him in high heels yet. You think it’s too soon?”

Sam laughs. “Good to see you, man. Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Noah says truthfully. 

“Stevie’s technically my best man,” Sam continues, “but it’s just you and him, so I figured maybe you and he could figure out a party tomorrow night?”

“Bachelor’s tomorrow night, rehearsal Sunday night, wedding Monday night?” Noah laughs. “New Year’s Eve, dude. A bit cliche?”

“Jordan’s idea. It’s costing her folks a little more, but our honeymoon travel rates are way low. We’re going to fly out on Wednesday to really cut costs.”

“Missing some class, I take it, Mr. Evans?”

“You’re never going to stop that, are you?”

“Never gonna get old.”

The bachelor’s party isn’t huge, but Sam has a good time, and they don’t leave for the small town outside Cleveland where Jordan’s from until Friday afternoon. The town is so small, in fact, that the rehearsal dinner is at the same place that the reception will be. The wedding probably would have been, too, except Jordan really wanted to be married in the same church as her parents or something like that. 

The wedding really is small. There’s a few friends of Sam’s that Noah’s met once or twice, but he’s the only one there from Lima. Finn sent his regrets; apparently owning a pizza parlor doesn’t lend itself to vacations, even for old friends getting married. Jordan and Sam look happy, though, so happy, and Noah can’t help but feel like maybe they’ll have finally redeemed weddings for him. The last one he attended was the ill-fated Hudson-Berry nuptials, and everyone knew from the start that wasn’t going to end well. Jordan and Sam, though, Noah thinks they’ll manage to go the distance. 

Since they aren’t leaving for their honeymoon until the day after New Year’s, Sam’s parents host a brunch for the wedding party, the immediate families, and Sam and Jordan, before everyone starts to disperse. Noah can’t help but think it’s crazy that even a year after leaving, he still spends New Year’s Day mostly in Ohio. 

In February, Noah gets loaned out to the store in Queens for two weeks, and he’s just leaving the diner that’s become his go-to for his exile in Queens when he hears an incredulous voice behind him. “Puck? Noah Puckerman?”

Well, whoever it is obviously does know him, and is probably from Lima to boot, so Noah turns around slowly. It takes him a minute to match up the person in front of him with a name, and then he’s a little surprised. “Blaine Anderson?”

“It is you!” Blaine laughs. “What a coincidence! I’m usually never in this part of town.”

“No,” Noah agrees, “usually I’m not either.” He sticks out his hand, but Blaine takes it and then pulls him into a hug.

“I haven’t seen you since the year I graduated, dude! How are you? I never hear anything about you.”

“Likewise,” Noah points out. “I guess we just aren’t interesting enough for the Rachel Berry updates.”

“Right?” Blaine grins. “Well, I’m finishing up my MBA, and in April I’m getting married!”

“Wow, congratulations,” Noah says. “Ready to take the plunge?”

“Well, Evan convinced me, anyway,” Blaine says, his face practically lighting up like an old incandescent bulb. “What about you? Anyone special? You hear from anyone back home?”

Noah shakes his head. “Nah, broke up with someone a few weeks ago. I went back to Ohio in December for Sam’s wedding.”

“Oh, right, I heard he got married! You know his wife?”

“Oh, yeah, Jordan’s great. I think they’ll make it, you know? And Sam loves his job.” Noah snickers. “He’s a first grade teacher. Jordan’s a banker. They’re almost too adorable.” He shrugs. “Other than that, I know Finn really does own a pizza parlor.”

Blaine grins. “That’s pretty cool. He deserves something like that after, well.” Blaine shakes his head. “I do see Rachel on occasion. That musical last year flopped, and then she got the lead in another one a few months later. I think it’s still off-Broadway? Or maybe in workshop?” Blaine shrugs. “Anyway, I’m not sure it’ll make it, either, but I guess she does at least get the leading roles for her resume.”

“Yeah, she probably does love that,” Noah agrees. “Listen, it’s great to see you, dude, but I have to get back to work.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t think about it!”

“I’m on loan this week and next to the store out here,” Noah explains. “Usually I’m shift manager during the week, but. Weekend shift manager in exile.”

“What’s your usual store?”

“Manhattan.”

“Oh, you live there?”

“Nah, Brooklyn. A lot cheaper.” Noah reaches into his pocket and pulls out both of his business cards. “If you need anything musical or, if you need a personal trainer,” he explains. “Good to see you, Blaine.”

“You too, Noah.” Blaine smiles again and then walks off in the opposite direction, and Noah shakes his head. Curious that he never hears about Blaine in Rachel’s updates, come to think of it. 

The rest of 2019 feels restless to Noah. He thinks about cutting back on his personal training clients, but instead decides to increase his hourly rate and see if anyone naturally disappears. He ends up getting four new clients instead and having to start a waiting list. He didn’t really think that was the cause, anyway. If he could guarantee himself even more clients, he’d just do personal training full-time, at least if his goal were primarily the highest salary. He still stands by his original assessment, though; personal training isn’t something he wants to do his entire life, or even for a few more years. It’s a stop-gap, something that brings in money for paying off student loans and sending to his sister, as well as helping him build up a considerable savings account for… something. He’s just not sure what that something is. 

Still restless, he breaks things off completely with Tyler in April, and in June he starts looking for a different job. He enjoys his work; he gets to meet new people and he gets to talk about music, both from the technical perspective and what new acts there are. He’s just not sure he wants to stay at GuitarCenter any longer. He’s stalled out within their hierarchy. The next step would be store manager, and that would mean less customer contact and a lot longer hours. He’s still not sure where he wants to end up, but he applies at a few of the locally-owned stores, and in July, he officially quits GuitarCenter, heading for a managing/sales job at East Village Music. The move means he never has to worry about being called into work on a Sunday again, and he quickly reacquaints himself with the Saturday night crowd at Asphalt Roof. 

Actually, he reacquaints himself with the crowd most nights, because listening to music and playing music is still what makes him happiest, and he half-heartedly dates one of the other regulars, Clay. Well, he meets Clay there most nights, and most nights they go back to his place or Clay’s place and fuck after the club closes. On occasion they meet for dinner before they go to the club, but it’s not a romance, really, and when he bumps into an adorable redhead named Katrina, Noah doesn’t have any problem breaking things off with Clay. 

It’s a couple of weeks after he starts seeing Kat that Noah really starts to feel like things are looking up. Thursday nights are mostly regulars at the club, four or five local groups rotating on and off the stage, so when a new guy comes in, Noah makes sure to nod at the seat next to him at the bar. “A new guy!”

The guy laughs. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only on Thursday nights. It’s pretty much all regulars on Thursdays,” Noah answers, offering his hand. “Noah Puckerman.”

“Andrew Rittenberry. Call me Andy.”

“Andy.” Noah nods. “Welcome to Asphalt Roof. We’re pretty fond of it.”

The two of them keep up a constant conversation through the various groups taking the stage, Noah talking about their various strengths and weaknesses. “I can’t understand why these guys haven’t gotten signed, to be honest,” Noah says when the fourth group gets up.

“Who are they?”

“Beach Glass Medley. The brunette’s Nicole, the other two are Hugh and Michael. They’re good,” Noah says admiringly. “Hugh’s technique on bass is amazing, and Nicole?” He shakes his head. “I wish I could show a video of her on guitar to half the people that come into the store.”

“The store?”

“I work over at East Village Music,” Noah explains. “A _lot_ of wannabes. People like these three, they’re the real deal. Sometimes I grab the expensive guitars they’re drooling over and show them why they don’t need it. That didn’t go over quite as well at GuitarCenter.”

Andy laughs. “No, I bet not. So you play?”

“Yeah, I write my own stuff, play piano and guitar.”

“And you work at a music store.”

Noah shrugs. “It helps pay the bills. I don’t really know what I’ll end up doing, but for now, it’s good. Got my degree in business and jazz composition, so.” Noah shrugs. “Who knows.”

When Beach Glass Medley finishes up, Andy nods. “You’re right, they are the real deal. So, we going to hear you tonight?”

Noah grins. “Nah, not tonight. Sometimes I play on Sunday or Monday, though.”

“You playing this week?” 

“Sunday.”

“I might just come back to hear you then. Thanks a bunch, Noah.”

“No, it was fun.” They shake hands and Noah leaves the club, not thinking too much about the other guy until Sunday night after he finishes his set. 

“Noah,” Andy greets him after Noah’s sat down at a table with Kat and some others. 

“Oh, hey, Andy, I guess you did come back.”

“Yeah, glad I did.” Andy makes small talk for a few minutes before pulling out a business card and writing something on the back. “Listen, call me tomorrow and let’s set up a meeting over lunch one day this week.”

“Yeah, sure,” Noah nods, pocketing the card without looking at it. Andy talks to everyone for a few more minutes before leaving, and it’s not until the next morning on the train that Noah examines the card. “Holy shit,” he whispers to himself. 

_Andrew Rittenberry_ , the card reads. _Manager with UTA_. 

 

“What’s that?” Douglas, one of the other guys at the music store, asks that afternoon, as Noah taps the business card on the counter in front of him. “Some lucky person slip you a number?”

“You could say that,” Noah laughs. He rests the card flat on the glass and slides it towards Douglas, keeping a finger on two corners.

“Holy shit, dude! That’s awesome.”

“Yeah, I have no idea what he wants,” Noah admits. “He came out to the club the other night and listened to BGM, but he gives me a card?” Noah shakes his head. “Doesn’t add up, Dougie.”

“Don’t call me that.” 

“You love it.”

“Yeah, I love the idea of smacking you every time you say it. What did he say when he gave you the card?”

“He wrote this number on the back.” Noah flips the card over briefly. “Told me to call him today and set up lunch for one day this week.”

“So you get to bypass the administrative assistant? Pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I guess. Who knows.”

“Well, it’s time for your break, right? Go call the guy.”

It takes Noah another five minutes to place the call, and he’s afraid of being asked “Who is this again?” but Andy remembers him and remembers where he works, too, suggesting an early lunch at the Moroccan place around the corner on Wednesday. He still doesn’t give Noah an indication of _why_ they’re meeting for lunch, and Noah thinks maybe the guy just likes the idea of cultivating a contact that both knows one of the good clubs in Brooklyn and also works at one of the better independent music stores. 

Noah calls up Kat and decides to take her to a late dinner after work on Tuesday, to keep his mind off whatever Andy Rittenberry wants, and it more or less works, up until the point he’s getting dressed on Wednesday morning. 

“You’re probably wondering why I wanted to meet with you,” is how Andy opens the conversation once they meet at the restaurant, and Noah nods. “Truth is, there are three reasons.”

“Okay?” Noah’s even more confused now, but he tries not to look too dumb or out of it. 

“Like you saw on my card, I work at UTA. I represent several different musical groups as well as some individuals, and while I get a number of inquiries each week, I like to go out and find groups as well. Hence my presence at the club.” 

Noah nods, because so far, this all makes sense; it just doesn’t tell him what he’s doing there. 

“What stood out to me at Asphalt Roof—well, musically, you and the group on Thursday—was you. Most clubs, no one can tell me why one group is more popular than another, or I just get told ‘they’re better’ with no reasoning. You analyze the performers’ strengths and weaknesses like it’s natural to you, which I suspect it is.”

Noah’s not sure what to say, because yeah, he usually does do that, but he’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean. 

“So frankly, Noah, I’m torn. On the one hand, you’re certainly something that some divisions of the major labels would be interested in. You’re not a pop sound, but you’re something different. On the other hand, I think you’d be exceptional at the job I do.”

Thankfully, their food arrives at that point, and Noah can’t remember the last time he was this appreciative of timing. Probably back in Columbus, when Sam tried to set him up with a coworker of Jordan’s right after he kicked Jeremy to the curb. 

“How does—how does that work?” Noah finally asks. 

“Well, there are several ways people end up managing,” Andy says. “One of them is starting out at the bottom level in a company like mine, and working up the ladder.” He pauses. “I’ll be honest, I can offer you a job, but something tells me that you wouldn’t necessarily be interested in the pay cut, the hours, or the five to eight years, potentially, of getting up the ladder.”

Noah winces. “No, not particularly.”

“There are a limited number of grad school programs. One of them’s here in New York. That would be my suggestion.” Andy frowns. “And as much as I’d love to represent you, I don’t know that I’m not more valuable to you in terms of management, if you chose to pursue that.”

“That’s… a lot to think about.”

Andy laughs. “Yeah, I guess it is. Why don’t you take a week or two and we’ll meet for lunch again?”

“Yeah, all right,” Noah agrees, and they set up another meeting two weeks later. 

If Noah’s honest with himself, he never thought about managing, but he does some research online about the job and the grad school, and even though he never planned on even _more_ school, he’d never planned on much of anything that had happened since he turned sixteen, and most of that had turned out alright in the end. 

It’s also a job that sounds fun, if he’s really honest. He likes working in at the store, just like he liked GuitarCenter fine, but what he likes about it is meeting new people and talking music. The part he likes most about personal training apart from the money isn’t the work, but being in charge of the entire operation on his own. Sure, it looks like he’d need to work under a larger company first, but he could _do_ this. Andy Rittenberry is right, Noah thinks. Noah would be good at it, and he’d enjoy it. 

Noah also figures out the approximate cost and winces, but he knows he’s not going to get great financial aid, not this time around. Not since he’s been living off his salary and putting everything from personal training back. Actually, if he saves a little bit more, and cuts back a little more on his expenses one way or another, he can probably just pay for it out right. It’ll mostly deplete his savings, but he can keep doing the personal training even while he’s in school. 

Still, it’s a big decision. Applying and even being accepted aren’t committing wholeheartedly, though, and Andy offers to write one of his letters of recommendation, in addition to setting up a meeting with a friend of his, another manager. 

When the December update from Rachel comes with the news that Quinn has a part in a pilot, Noah sends back a one-line update to Rachel.

_Completed my goal, so you can mark that off your list now._

Rachel sends back a three-paragraph long response, demanding more information, but Noah doesn’t feel the need to expand. It’s probably nothing like anyone would expect, and Noah doesn’t exactly think he needs to explain his decision-making process to anyone. He’s not stupid; he knows that the chances of making very much off an album are slim, but he managed to have some good terms in the contract, so at the very least, he should get a little extra money while he’s in grad school, assuming he gets in. 

His acceptance letter at the end of March ends his relationship with Kat, who explodes that he didn’t discuss this “hare-brained” plan with her, and isn’t he a little too old to be changing career paths?

“I’m just going to turn twenty-seven after I start,” Noah responds, incredulous. “I don’t have a family to support. What’s the problem?” He’s suddenly glad he’s never told her, or any of the other people he’s dated since Jeremy, about Beth. If he’s busy some weekends seeing her or some weeknights attending her school programs, no one knows why, and he’s always liked it that way. Kat’s blow-up just cements that in his head. 

It’s probably better that way, Noah decides; starting grad school, which he never planned on doing, is going to be hard enough without trying to maintain a relationship. He gives the store a four month notice at the beginning of May, and spends the summer adding a few more clients to his personal training roster. One day he’ll feel secure enough financially to stop, or at least he hopes so, but it won’t be until his sister’s out of college and on her own, at least, and he knows it. 

Sam calls in the middle of May, sounding as happy as ever. “What’s new?”

“Going to grad school in the fall,” Noah admits. “Not sure I believe it.”

“Wow! Awesome. What made you decide to do it?”

“Boredom, maybe?” Noah admits. “So what’s up with you, Mr. Evans?”

“Good news,” Sam says. “Remember my ‘by thirty’ goal?”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, I remember.”

“I’m actually going to do it.” Sam sounds disbelieving. “Closing on a place next month. It’s pretty small, but Stacey’s the only one still at home, and it’s going to be theirs. No mortgage.”

“That is _awesome_ , Sam,” Noah says. “I mean it. Way to go.”

“It’s your fault,” Sam teases. “All that personal training money? That’s where it’s gone. Waiting for next month.”

“Hey, I just gave you the idea. You did the work.”

“I never would have thought of it, though.” Noah can still hear the grin in Sam’s voice. “Jordan and I are buying a place, too, here in Columbus. I get a raise after next year, she just got a promotion, and the market’s good right now.”

“I hear you. Sometimes I wish I had the money to invest around here.”

“You haven’t spent that much money!”

“It’s going to pay for grad school,” Noah says. “Quitting my day job in August. School full-time for two years. Training’ll keep me in rent and food, at least. I may move someplace smaller and shittier.”

“Wouldn’t that be pretty hard to do?”

“In Brooklyn? Yeah.” Noah snorts. “But I guess there’s always Queens. Staten Island.”

“Ouch. That’d pretty much kill you, wouldn’t it?”

“Wouldn’t make me happy,” Noah admits. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll advertise for a roommate or try to find someone subletting. I know I wanted to live in Manhattan when I moved out here, but I actually like Brooklyn.”

“Start looking now,” Sam advises. “What’s the worst that happens, you pay less rent for a few months?”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, true. Listen, congratulations on the house. Houses.”

“Thanks! And, hey, way to go on the grad school.”

“Yeah, I hope so. When are you two going to come visit?”

“Let’s see, when are you going to come back to Ohio to visit?”

“When’s the next reunion?”

Sam laughs. “All right, all right. Maybe spring break next year? Mine, I mean, not yours.”

“Sounds good. I’ll mark the calendar when you send me the dates.”

 

It’s July before Rachel sends out another one of her emails. He gets it in his new sublet room, but at least he’s still in Brooklyn. This message includes Noah’s own news, a picture of the house Sam bought for his parents, congratulations for Tina on her MFA, and a paragraph exhorting them all to tune in to Quinn’s show on ABC when it premieres in September. Absurdly, it’s titled _Crashcart Justice_ , apparently about ambulance-chasing attorneys. _Literally_ chasing the ambulances, if the promotional pictures that are also in the email are to be believed. 

The guys at the store throw Noah a party, and then he has a week more or less off before he finds himself sitting a classroom again. By the end of the second week, though, Noah knows he’s made the right decision in going back to school. Most of his classmates are around his age or even older, they all love music, and they end up spending a lot of their free time studying together. 

“Oh, damn.” Noah’s phone starts buzzing. 

“What is it?”

“I forgot, I was going to watch that new show on ABC tonight,” Noah explains. He’s at one of his classmates’ apartments while they all study for P&P, and he’d thought he’d be back home way before the show started. It _is_ pretty damn cool that one of them’s on tv. 

“Oh, _Crashcart Justice_? Yeah, I wanted to see that, too!” one of the other guys, Tony, says. “That blonde girl is _smokin’_.”

Noah starts laughing as they turn on the television, and when someone asks him why, he says he’ll explain afterwards. The show turns out to be good, and Quinn does a good job. When the show ends, he chuckles again. “Well, damn, Quinn, you picked a good one.”

“Quinn?”

“The girl playing Tricia?” 

“Oh, okay. Yeah. You know her or something?”

“Went to high school with her,” Noah says with a smirk. 

“Think you could get me an introduction?”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, probably not. I’m not her favorite person from back home, let’s just put it that way.”

“Bad break-up?”

“Something like it.”

By January, Noah is a bit dumbfounded: he has a 4.0 for the first time pretty much ever, he’s made some good friends, and the sublet is actually working out really well. He’d forgotten how much he actually liked living with people. 

“You need a date,” Tony says cheerfully. “Pick someone out. Tell me about the people you’ve dated.”

Noah snorts. “I don’t need a date. I need to work and have friends and take care of my other obligations. I broke up with the last one because she went off the handle when she found out I was going to grad school.” 

“What about the others?”

“Well, Clay wasn’t much of anything serious. I got restless or something with Tyler, who knows. And Amelia wasn’t anything serious, either. That’s it since I moved here.”

“You know a girl named Tyler?”

Noah laughs. “No, dude. I’m bi. Tyler and Clay are both men, Amelia and Kat are women.” He shrugs. “Whoever I connect with is pretty much my criteria. I thought you guys realized.”

“Well, you mentioned dating Quinn Fabray, and—yeah, okay, you’ve talked about hot guys with the girls and hot girls with us.”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, that should make it even easier for me to find you someone.”

“Nah. Seriously, I just need to work and get through school, Tony. I do have an old friend from high school coming to visit in April, he and his wife. Get this—he dated Quinn too.”

“Get out!” Tony laughs. “Everyone but me.”

“I’ll try to find a reason to include a picture of you the next time I email everyone, how about that?”

“Wait, you’re still in touch with her? You have her personal email address?” Tony looks like all of his personal dreams have come true.

“Well, it’s mainly Rachel who still keeps in touch with all of us that were in glee club,” Noah explains. “She had us do this weird thing about our goals by age thirty, so she updates us all on the progress we’re each making.”

“Quinn Fabray’s gotten hers, I’m thinking?”

“Not yet.” Noah grins. “Why do you think I keep voting on the PCA website? She wanted an award for acting from a televised awards show. Rachel sent out another email a week ago, telling us to go vote. Oh, and that Artie’s gotten a film accepted at Sundance, so there’s his goal.”

“Has everyone actually reached their goals?”

“Mostly.” Noah blinks, a little surprised. “Huh. Yeah. I never did know what Rory’s was, but Blaine’s halfway there, and I guess—Kurt. Well, his marriage will be legal regardless, but I don’t know if he’s married or seeing anyone.” Noah shrugs. “We managed to do all right for ourselves, I guess you could say.”

 

“Has it really been two years?” is how Sam greets Noah when Noah meets them at LaGuardia. “How the hell did that happen?”

“No clue,” Noah laughs, taking Sam’s hand and then pulling him into a hug before hugging Jordan as well. “How was the flight?”

“Long,” Jordan answered. “With tiny bathrooms.”

“They usually are.” Noah picks up one of their bags for them and they head towards the bus terminal. “So what’s on your must-see list? I still have class, but I should have some free time.”

“Shopping,” Jordan admits. “Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building—typical tourist haunts.”

“I want to see that club you go to,” Sam says. “All that stuff. Show us what it’s like to live here.”

Noah laughs. “Okay, so tourist stuff while I’m in class, and I’ll give you a Brooklynite’s perspective when I’m not at school or working?”

The week that Sam and Jordan are here is a ton of fun; he introduces them to some of his friends from school and even takes them by the old store to meet Dougie. They go to the club and hang out, and Sam finally asks about the recording contract. 

“So what was that?”

“Oh, it’s out there. It’s mostly, how did they put it? Alt jazz-folk rock?” Noah laughs. “Nah, the contract’s written so I get a steady influx from the net profits. I play a few gigs in and around the City unless or until it gets more attention somewhere. It’s more of a way to supplement my income, honestly.” He shrugs. “And it gives a perspective from the other side for when I eventually start working after grad school. So it’s not a huge thing, but since it was offered? Yeah, I took it.”

“Makes sense, but dude! You could have told us it was out so we could buy it!”

“Maybe I didn’t want you buying it,” Noah laughs. “You can find it on iTunes.”

Sam pulls out his phone and looks for the album right there, which makes Noah laugh even harder. “So how much do you get for this?”

“Uh, about three bucks,” Noah admits. “So I’ll be sure to thank you one night next month when I go get a drink.”

In May, two good things happen in the same week: Sam calls with the news that he and Jordan are going to have a permanent reminder of their visit to New York, and Andy finds Noah an internship for the summer. Rachel sends out a message in June, very belatedly congratulating Quinn on her People’s Choice Award, as well as sharing the news that Rory’s working for the Irish Consulate in Chicago which somehow ties into whatever Rory’s goal had been. For some reason, Rachel does include the random picture of Noah with some of his friends from grad school, including Tony; for reasons that Noah definitely doesn’t understand, he gets a message from Quinn directly a week later, that she’ll be in New York for a few days, and would he like to have lunch? 

Weird or not, Noah wouldn’t mind seeing her, so he responds in the affirmative, and he meets up with her in Manhattan on one of the hottest days of the year. “It’s good to see you, Puck,” Quinn says, embracing him briefly. 

“You too, Quinn,” Noah says, and he means it. “I don’t see many people from back home. Well,” he amends, “Sam and Jordan were out here in April.”

“How is Sam? Jordan’s his wife, right?”

“Right, yeah.” Noah grins. “They’re good. Going to have a baby, actually.”

“Oh, congratulations to them! I wish Rachel would put more random news about everyone in her messages.” Quinn shakes her head. “I think we should just start hitting reply all.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, maybe so. Sam keeps in touch with Finn more than anyone, but I have no idea about almost everyone else,” he admits. “Finn’s thinking about selling his pizza place, actually, is what Sam said.”

“Really?” Quinn sighs as there’s the click of a camera nearby. “I’m sorry, I hope you’re not seeing anyone, they’ll assume we’re dating based on the pictures.”

“Haven’t been dating in awhile. Tony keeps trying to set me up with friends of his, but between school and work.” Noah shakes his head. 

“And your sister?”

“At OSU. Just finished freshman year. She’s thinking about veterinary school or medical school, can you believe that?”

“She always was smart,” Quinn says with a smile. “We’ve all come very far.”

“We have,” Noah agrees. “Kind of scarily so.”

“Show me around this part of the city before I have to go?” Quinn grins. “Give the paps some exercise.”

“Sure thing.” And it must just be fate, because Noah had been careful not to mention meeting up with ‘the Quinn Fabray’ to anyone, but still, after just a few blocks, they bump into Tony. He doesn’t even realize who Noah’s with for about thirty seconds, and then he’s rendered silent for another thirty seconds before Quinn invites him to walk around with them. 

Neither of them even notices when, forty-five minutes later, Noah turns down a different path in the middle of Central Park. 

Somehow, Noah never anticipated being in Quinn’s wedding, but in December he is, standing up beside Tony in a ceremony that’s very hush-hush, to keep the paps from finding it. Tony’s over the moon, and they spend the rest of the time until May consoling Tony when Quinn’s in LA and he’s in New York. Graduation’s in May, and they all accompany Tony to the airport the next day, sending him off to start a new job in LA and finally live with his wife. 

For his part, Noah has a new job starting July fifth. Not with Andy’s company, but with a smaller company, still on its way up, and Noah thinks it’ll be a good fit in lots of different ways. Before it starts, though, he’s heading back to Ohio for the first time since Sam’s wedding, for the ten year reunion. 

The flight into Columbus isn’t bad, and the rental car isn’t too old or rattly, but Noah manages to almost get lost on the drive into Lima. He checks into the Wingate before meeting Sam, Jordan, and baby Lori at one of the nearby restaurants for dinner. “Looking forward to tomorrow night?” Sam asks. 

“It’s going to be interesting, anyway,” Noah answers. “I had to remind myself to answer to Puck if someone says it.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah, I bet. Ready to start the new job?”

“More than, really,” Noah says. “The last month has dragged. I found myself at the natural history museum last week.”

“Ouch. Noah Puckerman, voluntarily in a museum.”

“Right? Not a lot of room to talk, Mr. Evans.”

“Maybe now that you’re done with school, you’ll start dating again.”

Puck snorts. “Or maybe I’ll be working so hard that I won’t have time.”

“You make time for what’s important to you, dude.” Sam raises his beer before taking a drink. “The right guy or girl, you’ll manage. You just have to be willing to meet her. Or him.”

“I’ll take it under consideration.”

The reunion the next evening is scarily reminiscent of prom junior year, the gym decorated and a bowl of sadly non-alcoholic punch sitting amongst the refreshments. The decorations are even the same sad crepe paper, and when Noah sees Mr. Schuester, he walks over and offers his hand. 

“I don’t think I ever told you thank you enough,” Noah admits. “If you two hadn’t helped us out, helped me out—my sister’s starting her junior year at OSU in the fall, and I haven’t had to worry about her getting enough to eat in years, and—”

“We were glad to help,” Mr. Schue interrupts him. “Really. I’m so glad to hear that about your sister. What about you? Where are you working?”

Noah smiles sheepishly. “I, uh, actually just finished my Masters in Music Business last month. I start at a management agency next month, Elliott & Turner.”

“Managing music? Oh, wow, yeah. That’s perfect for you!” Mr. Schue beams at him. “And, look at you. Grad school!”

“Yeah, that was a surprise to me, too,” Noah admits. “But seriously. Thank you.”

“No, thank you for letting me know. It’s good to see you, Puck. Or is it Noah, now?”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, Noah. I did remind myself to answer to Puck for the evening, though.”

Sam finds him next, looking a little wild-eyed. “Is it okay if I don’t really want Jordan to hear Santana’s names for me?”

“Trouty mouth?” Noah snickers. “I told Jordan about that years ago.”

“Noah Puckerman!” Sam shakes his head. “Betrayer.”

“But now you don’t have to avoid Santana.”

“Avoid me? Why, trouty mouth?”

“And there it is.” Sam turns around, shaking his head ruefully. “Hello, Santana.”

“Sam Evans.” She smirks. “And Noah Puckerman. Looking nice, gentlemen.”

“Thank you,” Noah says, amused, inclining his head. “Not looking so bad yourself.”

“Aww, you’re a sweetheart. Anyone else worth talking to here?”

“Do you need anyone else if you have us?” Sam jokes.

“Tony said they’re coming, so Quinn’ll be here,” Noah offers. 

“Tony?”

“Quinn’s husband?”

“You know Quinn’s husband?” Santana looks both amused and horrified. “I didn’t know the two of you had stayed in touch.”

“We didn’t really,” Noah tries to explain. “But she was in the city and wanted to have lunch, and then we bumped into Tony, which was a dream come true for him, and forty-five minutes later, they’d forgotten I was even with them. I went to grad school with Tony,” he explains.

“You? Grad school?” Santana scoffs. “So you introduced your high school girlfriend to her husband?”

“Yeah.” Noah shrugs. “Worked out pretty well for them.”

Sure enough, the rest of them from glee club all end up standing together, Noah and Tony catching up on the last month, Brittany trying to convince Finn to invest in her expansion of her business, and Kurt staring at all of them, looking amused. They ditch the reunion as a group and end up at Breadstix. 

“Introductions!” Santana says. “I don’t know who half you people are.” 

“Not all of us brought a plus one,” Kurt says primly.

“You’re the only one,” Rachel says.

“Uh, no.” Noah does a sarcastic little wave. “No plus one, either.”

Tony looks at Noah speculatively as Santana introduces her girlfriend, and Noah groans. “No,” he hisses. “You are not setting me up with Kurt Hummel just because he’s also apparently single.”

“That’s your objection? That’s it?” Tony whispers.

Noah rolls his eyes. “No.”

“But that’s the one you gave!” Tony seems delighted, and after Brittany introduces herself and the man holding a cat with her, it’s Noah’s turn. 

“Yeah, I’m still Noah Puckerman. No plus one.”

“Single or did you leave her at home?”

“I couldn’t get this guy to date anyone for the past two years!” Tony chimes in. “It’s sad.”

“No one? Puckerman?” Santana sounds skeptical. “Yeah, right.”

“Broke up with the last one two years ago spring.” Noah shrugs. “I was kind of busy.”

“You never do have a good reason,” Jordan jokes. “The last time you did was Jeremy.”

“Yeah, well, douche,” Noah snorts. “And talk about ancient history.”

“Which is why you should get back out there,” Sam picks up. “It’s bad when we’re rehashing five year old relationships, dude.”

“I didn’t ask you to. Tony, it’s your turn.”

“Way to change the subject.”

“Yeah, it’s your turn, Fabray.”

“That’s Tucker-Fabray to you.”

“My apologies.”

“Yeah, I’m Tony.” Tony sort of waves, and the introductions keep going around the table, including Rachel’s supposed boyfriend who looks like a parody of a gay man, and Finn’s fiancee. The woman with Mike may or may not be a girlfriend; it’s hard to tell if they’re involved professionally, personally, or both. Noah’s pretty sure it’s not Tony’s doing, but he does end up talking to Kurt before long. 

“You’re in New York, aren’t you?” Kurt asks. 

“Yeah, I live in Brooklyn. Used to have a studio but I’ve been subletting the last two years.”

Kurt tilts his head, just like he always did, and Noah has to grin. “Two years. Tony said something about two years, too. What’s significant about two years?”

“Grad school,” Noah admits. “I got a masters in music business at NYU. Graduated last month. That’s how I know Tony.”

“Ahh. Subletting to save money.”

“Right. What about you? Manhattan?”

“Upper East Side.”

Noah whistles. “Nice.”

“It’s a nice building,” Kurt shrugs. “I suppose it’s a nice enough neighborhood, though somehow it’s not quite what I expected. Do you like Brooklyn? What area are you in?”

“Prospect Heights right now, and yeah, I love it,” Noah admits. “I thought I might have to head out to Queens or something when I started at Steinhardt and I was not happy about that.” He shakes his head. “Luckily I found a good sublet. I just decided to sublet another year, rebuild my savings. Anyway, yeah. Brooklyn’s awesome. My commute’s going to be pretty nice, too, and has been.”

“My commute is surprisingly awful. During the week, that is. If I go in on the weekend it’s a breeze.” Kurt shakes his head. “Which is, frankly, far too often.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, I’ve been warned already about the hours—starting a new job next month. I’ve been trying to remind myself why I volunteered to start over at the beginning of the ladder.”

“No, I understand that completely.” Kurt looks across the restaurant, which has a karaoke set-up now, and most of the former glee club members are either clustered around it or on the makeshift dance floor they’ve commandeered. “When I got to NYADA, I was ecstatic. For about two months. Somewhere around that point I realized that while I love singing and performing, it was crowding out all the other things I loved to do. I wasn’t ready to make that lifetime commitment.” He tilts his head towards Rachel. “She was, despite the fact that ostensibly she was already married.”

Noah shakes his head. “Well, that was a train that we all knew would wreck. Except for the two of them.”

“Honestly, I think even Finn knew it,” Kurt says more quietly. “But. Regardless. I never mentioned it; I’ve always just waved off questions about what I actually do. I transferred after my first year at NYADA.”

“Really? Wow.” Noah sits back and looks at Kurt appraisingly. “I never knew. Where’d you go?”

“Parsons. I had to start over,” Kurt continues. “Parsons’ curriculum and NYADA’s curriculum don’t exactly overlap. So I took an extra year to graduate, and it was the beginning of 2018 before I was actually gainfully employed full time.” He tilts his head. “What? Why are you grinning so much?” 

“No, it’s just—I thought I took the longest. I mean, I still took longer than you did, but yeah. It was February of 2018 before I had a full-time job. I didn’t graduate until December of 2017.”

“Ah, so yes, you understand then,” Kurt nods. 

“I do.” Noah points his beer towards Finn. “So what’s the story with Finn and his new girl?”

“Elisa.” Kurt smiles. “Oh, she’s good for him. Really good for him.” He straightens just a little, an echo of his body language in high school, and Noah grins; like him, Kurt’s not necessarily changed, just dampened it a little with age. “You aren’t the only one who can introduce people, you know.”

“Ahh. You introduced them?”

“I did. I admit to having an ulterior motive, however.” Kurt pauses. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Finn’s selling the pizza parlor.”

“Sam mentioned it awhile back that he was thinking about it, yeah.”

“It’s officially for sale, and has been. When it sells, they’ll get married. Elisa’s in New York, you see.”

“Ahh. Wanted your brother out of Cincinnati?”

“Can you blame me?”

Noah laughs. “Not at all.”

The karaoke and dance combination eventually loses its appeal for almost everyone; either that, or the dismal lack of offerings of wine or beer finally makes an impression on someone besides Noah. Is it really too much to ask for something besides Budweiser to be on tap? They all migrate to a bar that Noah knows wasn’t there ten years before, and he says so quietly. 

“You should’ve come to the five year,” Sam chides him. “Then you would have known.”

“What was it with people and my not coming to the damn reunion? I couldn’t have been the only one.”

“You were the only one who was still in Ohio at the time who didn’t come,” Finn pipes up.

“Working. I was working.”

Noah decides he might just decide to kill Tony before they all leave Lima, because it’s obvious Tony’s decided Noah needs to hang out with Kurt. It’s not that Noah objects per se, but Tony’s not exactly the most subtle person ever. 

Then again, apparently most of them would be oblivious, including Kurt. Puck’s happily drinking a decent beer and watching everyone when Kurt turns to him with a raised eyebrow. “So you dated a girl named Jeremy?”

Noah laughs. “That would be an unusual name, wouldn’t it? I think there was a girl in one of the other programs at Steinhardt named Jeremy, actually. But, no.”

“I thought Sam said—”

“Not a girl.” Noah shrugs. “Turned out I was his arm candy; dating the poor bi guy who’s putting himself through school makes you look so hip and with it, apparently.”

“Ouch.” Kurt winces.

“Yeah, I didn’t realize it until he started bugging me about the reunion five years ago,” Noah explains. “But Sam and Jordan are convinced that was my last legitimate break-up.” He shrugs. “Being restless apparently isn’t an acceptable reason.”

Kurt ducks his head for a minute, grinning. “I think it’s a perfectly good reason. I could tell a few similar stories, myself. Dating in New York City hasn’t always been all that I had thought it might be.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, I hear you on that one. The last person I dated broke up with me because I was going to grad school.”

“Come again?” 

“That was more or less my reaction. Something about how I was too old to do something so irresponsible. I never did figure out how education was irresponsible.”

“Or how late twenties suddenly became ‘old’?” Kurt asks. “I’ve been wondering that myself, recently. And if it is in fact ‘old’, how did we get old so fast?”

“Old enough to know people with a baby,” Noah nods, pointing his glass in Sam’s direction. 

“Old enough to wish we were younger,” Kurt counters, and Noah chuckles.

“Yeah, exactly.” He shakes his head. 

“So what brought you to New York? I remember you were in Lima for a year or two after graduation? And then… Cleveland? Columbus?”

“Columbus for three years, yeah.” Noah takes a long drink of his beer. “Shelby and Beth moved to New York the year before I finished at OSU. Shelby’d been great about letting me see Beth, go to her preschool programs and kindergarten graduation, all of that. And yeah, I could still call or whatever, but.” He shrugs. “The year between when they moved and when I graduated was enough of a confirmation that I wanted to be closer than a ten hour drive. Actually did that once, trying to save on the cost of a plane ticket, but that wasn’t an experience I wanted to repeat often, if at all.”

Kurt nods slowly. “And Beth? She’s—wow, twelve now?” 

Noah grins. “Yeah, she’ll be in seventh grade in the fall. I know I’m biased, but I think she’s pretty awesome. Shelby’s done a great job. I mean, I’m Beth’s dad, but I’m not really her parent.” He sighs slightly. “Anyway. Yes. Smart. Ironically, can’t sing,” he admits, “but she plays saxophone and guitar.”

“And where would she have inherited that talent?” Kurt says sardonically. “Can’t imagine.”

“Shut up,” Noah says goodnaturedly. 

“I was merely pointing it out.” Kurt waves at the bartender. “Do you want another one?”

Noah nods as Kurt orders. “Thanks.”

The assembled group stays out until the bartender kicks them out, and somehow Noah ends up volunteering his hotel room for everyone to hang out in, so that way all the ‘plus ones’ can go to their rooms if they don’t want to be kept awake, and that’s more or less what happens, except Tony comes along too, immediately rifling through Noah’s suitcase. 

“Watch it.”

“Can’t believe you’re still wearing this t-shirt.”

“I can’t believe you went looking for it.”

“Call it a scientific experiment of sorts.”

“Tony, you wouldn’t know a science experiment if you fell into it.”

“Hey, why didn’t you get a room with a minibar?” Sam asks. 

“Didn’t know I was entertaining when I booked the room, and why should I pay for your booze? I’m the one that’s currently unemployed, remember?”

“We’d pay you back.”

“Are you kidding?” Santana scoffs. “No we wouldn’t. We’d happily charge all the liquor to the room and leave without giving him a cent.”

“See?” Noah shrugs. “You know she’s right. Some of you would do it on purpose, and the others would just forget. And one of you would remember and I’d end up only paying for half of it, along with whoever is the most sober and therefore least responsible.”

“You say that like it’s happened to you before,” Finn pipes up. 

“Because I was the idiot who was the most sober and paid for half, once.” Noah snorts and shakes his head. “No room service, either.”

“Do they even have room service in Lima?” Quinn asks. “I don’t exactly remember five-star hotels.”

“I got room service in Amarillo once, so anything’s possible,” Noah shrugs. 

“Why were you in Amarillo?” Santana asks.

“One of the stores I worked for did a lot of sales in vintage used instruments. Sometimes we had to go check them out in person.” Noah shrugs. “I did a lot of traveling for a year or so.”

“I miss the others,” Rachel announces suddenly. “Mercedes didn’t come. And Tina and Artie and Blaine won’t be here until next year.”

“We should have had a glee club reunion, instead of a class reunion,” Mike nods. “Would’ve been more what we were all looking for, apparently.”

It’s true, Noah has to acknowledge, and they all spend another hour or two talking before they slowly leave, until he’s alone in his room at last. He sets his alarm and drops onto the bed as soon as he pulls off his clothes; he’s got to get back to Columbus relatively early to catch his flight, because he has three personal training clients in the afternoon and evening. 

The funny thing, though, is that he’s only been his seat on the plane for a few minutes before a familiar face appears across the aisle. “I suppose I should have thought to ask when you were flying back,” Kurt says, amused. 

“Got a couple of clients tonight, so I thought I’d get back early,” Noah nods. “You?”

“I should put in some work before I go into the office tomorrow, yes,” Kurt agrees. “Clients?”

“Personal training. It pays the bills. Literally, at this point. Don’t know how long I’ll keep doing it, but I had enough saved, along with continuing with it, to pay all my bills during grad school, plus pay for grad school outright.”

“Wow.” Kurt looks momentarily impressed. “I wouldn’t have thought it was so lucrative.”

“It wasn’t at first,” Noah admits. “I started while I was still in Lima, working at Westwood, and Westwood was paying me a flat hourly rate for everything I was doing there, but once I went to Columbus, I went independent with the personal training, which pays a lot better.” He shrugs. “Every time I think about getting out of it, I have some other reason I need the money, or want to rebuild my savings. At this point, I’m not sure I’ll relax about money until my sister’s out of grad school, and she’s just finished her sophomore year of undergrad.”

“I completely understand.” Kurt shakes his head. “Until my student loan balance is zero, I think a part of me will feel like every stop at Starbucks is an indulgence I cannot afford—and I stop in at least twice a day.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, I thought about trying to wean myself down a little after finals, but what’s the point? I’ll just be right back on it as soon as I start the new job.”

“I think about cutting back on _work_ but somehow that never happens.”

“Where do you work?”

“Do you know _Flash_?”

“The digizine? Yeah, I’ve heard of it. You work there?”

“Managing editor,” Kurt answers with a pleased smile. “It was a bit of a risk, since it was just starting up when I quit my old job, but it turned out to a gamble that had excellent returns, instead of one that flopped.”

“Cool,” Noah nods. “Yeah, I admit I’ve never read an issue, but.” He grins. “I still pretty much grab a pair of jeans and a shirt. I figure if what I’m wearing, I bought in the last two years or so, I’m doing okay.”

“Tragic,” Kurt says ruefully. “Absolutely tragic.”

“Send me a code for a free issue and maybe I’ll look at it,” Noah offers, laughing. 

“Subscribe and I’ll throw a few clients your way,” Kurt counters, also laughing.

“Deal.” Noah grins. “You have BBiz on your phone?”

“Of course.” Kurt pulls out his phone and taps in a quick sequence, and Noah does the same, sending Kurt both his business card for personal training and his brand new one, ready for his new job even if he’s not there yet. A few moments later and Kurt’s own card shows up in his file. 

“Got it.” Noah nods as the announcer tells them to get ready for take-off. He winces. “And that’s my cue.”

“Don’t like to fly?”

“Not particularly,” Noah admits. “Especially not take off. I just put my music on and chew gum and ignore everyone. I promise I’m not trying to be rude.”

Kurt waves off his concern. “I should check in with work, I suspect,” he admits, pulling out his computer. Noah nods and closes his eyes, pulling out his headphones with their white-noise canceling and whatever else, popping in a piece of gum as the plane starts to move. 

The good thing about the year or so that Noah spent hunting down instruments is that he can fall asleep on a plane now, even if he doesn’t enjoy the experience of take-off. He never manages to fall asleep before take-off, but the next thing he’s aware of, the plane’s taxiing down the runway, having already landed. He figures that’s a win. 

He and Kurt walk towards baggage claim together, swapping restaurant recommendations, and then they each hail a cab with a wave in the other’s direction. It’s funny, really, Noah can’t help but think, how he’s lived in the same city for years now, but they’ve never made an effort to catch up. Noah’d thought about it a few times, but there was always something else more urgent, and he figures the same’s been true for Kurt.


	4. Chapter 4

Noah's plans for June include just one thing—the reunion—and since that's now done, June begins to drag. A few personal training clients each day and some research online for his new job take up a few hours, but it’s nowhere near enough to fill the time, so by mid-June, he calls up his sister and offers to fly her out for a week. That takes up some more time before the weekend of the Fourth, which Noah mostly spends out at Coney Island, and then he’s waking up on the fifth, a little bit nervous. 

Every other morning before work, he’s going to have at least a couple of clients, which works fine since his hours are more like ten or eleven until sometime after dinner. That’s going to be enough of a change, and so Noah cleared his schedule for the first morning anyway. He takes a run around the neighborhood and then a quick shower before getting dressed, then picks up his computer bag and heads towards the subway. 

The company is medium-sized, and one of his bosses is good friends with Andy Rittenberry, so by the time lunch rolls around, Noah’s been settled in his office, given a roster of small clients to start developing, and had plans made for lunch with his boss, Reb Steele, and Andy on Thursday. 

“Bring in a few personal things,” Reb suggests midway through the afternoon. “Pictures, art, whatever. Got a girl? Or a boy, I guess, don’t want to presume.”

“Nah, neither,” Noah shakes his head. “It’s just me.”

“Family around here?”

Noah laughs. “No, my mom still lives in Lima, Ohio, and my little sister’s at OSU.”

“Go Buckeyes,” Reb grins. “Right?”

“Right. Got my undergrad there, too.”

“Well, we’ve got to get something up on that wall,” Reb needles him good-naturedly. “Think on it.”

“Will do,” Noah assures him. 

The first month of work passes in a blur of meetings, catching up, meeting people, and some evening events on top of his usual roster of personal training clients. It’s early August when he gets an unfamiliar number calling him on a Sunday evening. 

“Noah Puckerman.”

“Yes, hello, this is Sly Mondale. I was recommended to call you for personal training.” There’s a pause, but before Noah can respond, Sly continues—whatever kind of name ‘Sly’ is. He mentions an hourly rate that’s about 15% over what Noah usually charges, but Noah decides not to contradict him. 

“Great, well, what day and time are you looking for? And are you looking for something at a gym, at home, or around the city?”

“A combination of around the city and at my gym, I think,” Sly responds. 

“Okay, what I usually have clients do is clear my coming into the gym ahead of time. I don’t talk directly with any gyms except the one I personally use.”

“Of course, of course.” It sounds like Sly talks to someone else and then he starts talking again. “Do you have room on your schedule for my boyfriend as well? He’s got a totally different schedule than I do, though.”

“I can check, sure,” Noah nods, because two additional clients at the increased rate would be worth bumping someone else off the schedule, frankly, or worth a little loss of sleep, either one. 

“Wonderful. I’ll let you talk to Brad, then.”

A few days later, Noah gets another call, this time from a woman, who also quotes the higher rate. Another two weeks pass and he gets three or four more calls, and he starts calling his older clients to let them know he’s going to have to go up on his rates. He rearranges his schedule a bit to let him get in a client in the morning before work, plus his own workout.

The new schedule requires an extra stop at Starbucks, or that’s what he tells himself, and it’s raining the morning that he bumps into Kurt. “Excuse me, sorry, oh, hey!”

“Noah.” Kurt smiles. “I didn’t expect to see you around here.”

“This one’s halfway between my gym and the office,” Noah says with a grin. “Today I just happen to not be trying to make an eight minute walk only take six minutes.”

“I hear you.” Kurt takes his drink and raises an eyebrow. “How is the new job?”

“It’s pretty cool,” Noah allows. “Nothing big yet, more getting my feet wet, but I like the size of the company and the people I work with, so that’s something.”

“Oh, that is definitely something.” Kurt shakes his head ruefully. “I sent a few people your way for personal training, by the way, though I don’t know if any of them called you. I just guessed at what you charge. Hopefully it wasn’t too low.”

“Ah-ha.” Noah snorts. “I wondered where all these new people were coming from. And, no,” he grins, “you actually increased my rates.”

“Oh, good,” Kurt smirks just a little. “None of them said where they got your name?”

“Not a single one. I was starting to think I’d taken out an ad and then promptly forgot about it.”

“There was apparently a sudden rash of interest in personal trainers in the magazine world. I can’t really explain it otherwise.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, I think I added six clients in the past six weeks from you, and then two of them each recommended another two. I had to go to my older clients and tell them I was raising my rates.”

“No deals for loyalty?”

“I tried that once, back in Columbus. It just got too confusing.”

“So I wouldn’t get a discount?”

“No, that’s the first rule I set for myself,” Noah says with a grin. “No friends as clients.”

Kurt blinks and then nods thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose that does make sense. Well, then,” he continues as they walk towards the door, “any gyms you’d recommend? As a friend, of course.”

“You still just run or work out at home?” Noah asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Running, mostly,” Kurt nods. “But I’m not very consistent, partially because there’s no place to shower at work.”

“I hear that,” Noah agrees. “I’m over at the Athletic & Swim Club now, but I have clients at NY Health & Racquet, and most of the chains, too. I mean, most of them are going to give you a good selection. I just have that old nostalgia for a swimming pool sometimes.”

Kurt laughs. “I suppose you might at times. I’ll look into it, at any rate.” They come to a corner and Kurt stops, nodding across the street. “There’s my home away from home.”

“Yeah?” Noah grins and gestures down the sidewalk. “I’m just down here. See you around, probably, Kurt.”

“Indeed. See you, Noah.”

Over the next few weeks, Noah bumps into Kurt more often than not, and when Rachel starts calling him out of the blue, it’s with Kurt that he laughs about deleting her messages. Noah’s not sure why she’s calling him, because no one is dead or sick or anything like that, and really, for almost anything else, it still seems like she’d call Kurt over Noah, of all of them from Lima and still the city, but Kurt agrees that there’s probably no reason to feel bad for not listening to her messages. 

The truth is, Noah’s barely got time to breathe, between his personal training clients and his job steadily growing and expanding. He’s out at clubs listening to bands and singers at least three nights a week, sometimes five or six, and a couple of the small acts he was assigned are finally starting to get some attention. Still, he’s nowhere near having any clients even resembling high profile. 

That starts to change in October, though, when his phone rings at work and he’s surprised to hear Tony on the other end. “So, Quinn’s got someone for you.”

“Someone for me? Shouldn’t she be sending work your way?”

“I’m LA, you’re New York,” Tony says dismissively. “Besides, you’re the guy that taught me not to mix friends and clients.”

“Fair enough,” Noah concedes. “So who is this?”

“Old friend of Quinn’s from Yale. She’s got management right now, but she’s looking to jump ship. Can Quinn send her your way later this week?”

“Sure, yeah. I’m in the office between one and four no matter what. Friday I’ll be in a meeting after three, though.”

“Between one and four? Okay. I’ll pass it along.” There’s the sound of Tony shifting in his seat. “So, now that business is out of the way. How’s things?”

“Busy,” Noah groans. “I love the money from personal training but I can’t take any more clients right now, and I’m going to have to either drop a few or hope I lose some in the next few months.”

“You know, most people don’t worry about having an absurdly high balance in a savings account.”

“Yeah, well.” Noah shrugs, even though Tony can’t see him. “Most people aren’t me, either.”

“Did you ever take _anything_ in to put on your walls?””

“Sure I did.” Noah looks around the room and hopes Tony doesn’t ask for a picture.

“Besides your degrees. Clever move, by the way.”

Noah rolls his eyes. “Yes. I have things on my walls other than that.”

“Let me guess. A picture of… your sister. And some kind of painting you picked up at Artists & Fleas.”

“Shut up.”

“I knew it!” Tony chuckles. “I bet you have a good picture of you and me, you should put that up on the wall.”

Noah snorts. “Yeah, I really want to stare at you and me every day.”

“Of course you do.” Tony laughs again. “So are you seeing anyone?”

“Didn’t you hear me say I was busy?”

“You could take a date with you in the evenings. Quinn comes with me about half the time.”

“Yeah, that’d make a great first date.”

“Maybe third,” Tony concedes. “Still, do you talk to _anyone_ who isn’t a client or a co-worker? And lives in the same city?”

“I saw Marissa a few weeks ago. And Don. I bump into Kurt at Starbucks most mornings. Oh, I have lunch with Andy most weeks.”

“Yeah, Marissa and Don don’t count, since Marissa’s a lesbian and Don’s straight. Andy doesn’t count either, he’s practically a co-worker. Kurt, though, huh?”

“Not like that.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t mind if it were.”

“He’s a good looking guy,” Noah acknowledges. “But we’re friends. And I’m not his type.”

“Uh-huh.” Tony laughs and Noah can imagine the smirk on his face. “He’s totally _your_ type, though. Nothing wrong with being friends first.”

“Seriously, Tony, just…” Noah sighs. “I’ve thought about it, okay? Just drop it.” 

Because, if Noah’s really honest with himself, he has thought about it. The thought actually came to him as early as July, and then once he started seeing Kurt at Starbucks, it took off in his head. But they’re friends, old friends, and Noah’s not really sure he wants to take a risk. It would be easier, in a lot of ways—he’d never have to explain his past, for starters, because Kurt already knows about all of it—but then, one of the things Noah was proudest of, back in June, was that there weren’t any weird vibes with his exes. Somehow it seems like if things went wrong with Kurt, there would be at future reunions, and maybe not just from Kurt’s side of things. 

So the thought of doing anything other than chatting with Kurt four or five mornings a week is going to have to stay just that, a thought in the back of his mind, no matter what Tony might think. 

“Yeah, all right,” Tony sighs. “Okay, so I’m sending Q’s friend your way. Email me or something sometime.”

“Yeah, yeah. When are you two headed this way again?”

“Some kind of New Year’s special at the beginning of the year? I’ll send you the dates, we’ll do dinner. You can bring a date.”

“Hanging _up_ now.”

“Have fun talking to Graham!”

Noah stares at the phone as the call ends. Graham? He shakes his head after a minute. No, surely Tony’d mention it if it was _the_ Graham.

Except that on Thursday afternoon around one-thirty, the front desk intern pops his head nervously around the door. “Noah, there’s um. Graham Ayers? Here to see you.”

Noah swears under his breath. “Fucking Tony.” He closes the file he’s working on and stands up. “Show her in, please?”

Graham Ayers. Tony and Quinn send him fucking Graham Ayers, without any warning. Graham Ayers, who won three Grammys in February and has consistently sat at or near the top of the Billboard chart for over a year. He’s going to kill them—well, more Tony, because he’s pretty sure Quinn’s not enough of a bitch to screw him over like this, with no warning at all. 

“Ms. Ayers, Mr. Puckerman,” the intern says, and then scurries away. 

Noah offers his hand. “Please, call me Noah.” After she shakes his hand, he gestures to the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” She smiles up at him as he goes to get two glasses of water from the side table. “And call me Graham. Did Quinn and Tony not warn you I was coming?”

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t speak with Quinn,” Noah admits. “Tony was less than forthcoming. Just said a friend of Quinn’s from Yale.”

“Oh no.” Graham laughs. “I am so sorry. I really thought they told you. Quinn had nothing but good things to say about you.”

“That’s a little surprising,” Noah grins. 

“Okay, so perhaps she said things about how bad your hair was in high school.” Graham shakes her head. “My family, my partner, they all think I’m a little crazy, to be honest. They point to the charts and the Grammys and ask me why on earth I’m not happy with my current manager. But I feel like that’s giving my manager too much credit. The charts and the Grammys should be, in theory, about _my_ performance and _my_ music. I need a manager for the business side, the media appearances, all of that. That’s where I feel my current management has let me down.”

Noah lets Graham continue for awhile, taking some notes as she talks, and after an hour, she stands to leave, looking at the pictures that Noah’s been slowly adding to his wall. He didn’t correct Tony about how many there were; easier to leave some things out, still. 

“This must be your mother and your sister,” Graham says, pointing to the picture taken the day she graduated from McKinley. Noah nods and Graham moves on to the picture they all took when they finished grad school; he definitely had lied to Tony about that one, since that was already on the wall. “Oh, Tony looks so funny.” She pauses again. “And this one?”

Noah knew someone would ask, eventually, but he didn’t expect it to be someone who knows Quinn, too. “You know about… sophomore year of high school?”

Graham nods slowly. “Yes, Quinn’s told me… oh! That’s _Beth_?”

“That’s her. That’s her elementary school graduation, anyway; she’s in seventh grade now so I should get a new picture of us, but.” Noah shrugs ruefully. “She’s got braces at the moment and generally doesn’t want her picture taken at all.”

“I understand that _completely_ ,” Graham laughs. “Give her another six or nine months.” She shakes her head. “She’s beautiful. She knows who Quinn is?”

“Not really. Shelby had always spoken of her vaguely, but once _Crashcart_ started, she downplayed it even more. The last thing she wanted was Beth going to school and announcing who her biomom was to the entire class.”

“Quinn doesn’t know you see her.” It’s not a question, and Noah shakes his head. “She told me about what happened senior year, too,” Graham continues, and Noah winces. “No, no worries. I think it hurt her too much, the chance of having her there and then not, over and over. She’s talked about finding her when Beth’s eighteen, or even fifteen. Beth would want to meet her?”

“I think so, yeah,” Noah says quietly. “But it’s a good call, waiting until fifteen or so, I think.”

“Yes, I agree.” Graham smiles. “I was adopted, myself. I kept threatening to run to my ‘real mother’ when I was thirteen. The pain I put both of them through in my teenage self-centeredness.” She shakes her head. “Well, I’ll be in touch by Tuesday, Noah. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you.” Noah leans against the doorway and looks down the hall as the intern nervously opens the door for Graham to leave the office. 

“Noah?” Reb pops into the hall a moment later. “Was that _Graham Ayers_?”

Noah nods slowly. “It was.”

“How… what…?”

“An old friend from high school went to Yale with her.” Noah shakes his head. “And I wasn’t exactly warned. Just that a friend of Q’s was going to drop by.”

“That’d be a hell of a coup, Noah. I hadn’t even heard she was unhappy with her current management.”

“Discreet’s a good quality in a client.”

“Oh, definitely.” Reb exhales. “Just, wow! Graham Ayers!”

 

“So who was Tony’s mysterious friend?” Kurt asks Noah the next morning. 

“Get this.” Noah shakes his head. “ _Graham Ayers_.”

“That’s _right_ , she went to Yale for a year or two, right?”

Noah nods. “Exactly. Never would have associated her with Yale, though, off the top of my head. So.” He exhales. “Could be a pretty big one, obviously.”

“Will you hear from her today?”

“She said she’d get back with me by Tuesday, so probably not.”

“A weekend to wait.” Kurt grimaces sympathetically. “Well, I get to decide if I’m firing someone on Monday morning or not.”

“Ouch. Fun weekends we have planned.”

“In theory, that’s not all I’m doing this weekend, but I suspect it will end up that way. You?”

“Going to see a couple of performances tonight and try to fit in three tomorrow. Plus training clients.” Noah shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. “Thinking about cutting back on clients, though. Not dropping anyone, at least not yet, but if someone drops, I’m not going to replace them.”

“I don’t blame you,” Kurt nods. “You look as tired as I feel!”

Noah winces. “That was harsh.”

Kurt laughs. “I’d look that tired, too, except I actually _follow_ the advice in my own magazine.”

“I’ve been reading it,” Noah protests. “I even bought a belt.” Kurt just starts giggling and Noah sighs. “Yeah, okay, I know.” He half-heartedly chuckles. “Belt’s not going to make me look less tired.”

“That would be an impressive belt indeed.” Kurt drains the rest of his drink and looks outside with a sigh of his own. “Another day, another dollar.”

“Something like that,” Noah agrees. “Hopefully we’ll have better Mondays—wait, nevermind. Have a good weekend, anyway.”

“You too, Noah.”

Only one of the singers Noah sees over the weekend holds any real promise, and he get his wish for fewer clients in an unexpected and annoying way, when he waits for a client for a half-hour on Sunday afternoon before getting a phone call from him that he’s not coming and won’t be any longer, either. Noah heads over to work out at the gym, and he’s just leaving, trying to decide if he wants to grab dinner there or back close to home in Brooklyn, when his phone rings. He answers without looking at the caller, frowning at the restaurant in front of him. “Hello?”

“Noah? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called today. Is this a bad time? It’s Graham Ayers.”

“Graham. No, no, it’s fine,” Noah hurries to reply, and weirdly, it is a good time. He changes direction and heads towards the office, on the off chance that it’s good news for him. 

“Oh, good. I just couldn’t wait, to be honest with you. I had a long conversation with my partner, and another with the core members of my band, and well. If you’re still interested, I’d like for you to be my manager.”

Noah’s glad he made it to the door to his office building before she actually said it out loud, and he fumbles with his keycard as he replies. “Yes, I definitely am. Wow. I really wasn’t expecting to hear from you so quickly.” Or, his mind supplies, at all. 

“Once I get an idea in my head, I’m afraid I want to execute it immediately. Can you send the contract over?” She rattles off an address. “And we should probably set up a meeting early this week.”

Noah pulls up his calendar and they agree on a time before exchanging a few more pleasantries and disconnecting the call. He sits heavily in his desk chair and shakes himself before getting to work on the contract. Ten minutes in, he calls for delivery, because it’s not going to be a night for eating at a table in Manhattan or Brooklyn. 

Noah seriously considers crashing in his office by the time he finishes the contract and has it sent over, since he has a client early in the morning, but the lack of clean clothes finally decides it for him, and he heads back over to Brooklyn, already contemplating skipping his own workout the next morning. 

He doesn’t, though, because once he’s awake and in that part of town, what would be the point in not working out? He’s definitely yawning, though, by the time he stops at Starbucks and then slides into his usual seat, waiting for Kurt to show up. 

“Ah, the only good part about Monday,” Kurt sighs as he sits down and takes a sip. “How did you like all the acts you went to see?”

“One out of five.” Noah shrugs. “Do you have to fire anyone?”

“No!” Kurt’s eyes light up a little. “She quit on Friday! And the one who ‘reported’ her, he quit as well, so that drama is no longer mine.”

“Excellent news.”

“And you? Have you…” Kurt narrows his eyes. “You _have_. She did?”

Noah lets himself grin. “She did. I was up way too late last night finalizing the contract and everything.”

“Congratulations!” Kurt smiles at him. “That must feel wonderful.”

“Yeah, more unreal still,” Noah laughs. “I haven’t even told my boss. I wanted to see the expression on his face in person.”

“I don’t blame you.” Kurt raises his cup. “Well done.”

“Still not sure how much of it was me and how much of it was she didn’t want to explain to Q why she turned me down,” Noah admits, “but thanks. And I’ll take it, regardless.”

“As you should. She’s not going to endanger her career for an old college friend, Noah.”

“True.” He does have to concede that point. “And now along with a new client comes much more paperwork.”

“When are we finally going to be completely electronic? I think they promised that to our parents when they graduated high school.”

“Never. The ancient Egyptians are having the last laugh.”

Kurt laughs. “That they are.”

Noah stashes his bag in his office and then walks down the hall to Reb’s office and knocks on the doorframe. “Oh, hey, Noah,” Reb says from the back corner, filling his water bottle. “Were you the one burning the midnight oil last night?”

“I was.” Noah leans against the doorframe and lets himself outright smirk. “Got a new client.”

“Yeah? One of the groups you went to see over the weekend.”

Noah shakes his head slowly. “No, though one of them might have some potential.”

“Then…” Reb pivots slowly. “Holy shit, Noah. You’re managing Graham Ayers?”

“I’m managing Graham Ayers.” Noah holds up the signed contract. “As of 11:35 PM last night, Graham Ayers is managed by Noah Puckerman with Elliot & Turner.”

Reb sits down heavily. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“I have an idea, yeah.” Noah nods. “Longer hours.”

“Besides the longer hours,” Reb laughs. “Come on. Time to tell Olivia.” 

“The big boss even in yet?”

“We’ll wait in her office,” Reb says definitively. “This is huge.”

“Longer hours” turns out to mean at least half again as many, and Noah reluctantly releases a few of his personal training clients, trying to fit the remainder into weekday mornings or Sunday afternoons. After three weeks, he’s starting to get adjusted, again, and he doesn’t blame himself for continuing to delete Rachel’s messages. 

Rachel apparently does, however, because he’s leaving lunch with Andy when she appears on the sidewalk in front of him. “Noah Puckerman! You haven’t returned my messages.” She frowns as he keeps walking, then hurries to walk beside him. “You haven’t even listened to them.”

“That’s true,” Noah agrees. “Been just a little busy, Rachel.”

“It’s _very important_. That’s why I made the effort to find you today. It’s about our ‘by thirty’ goals, Noah.”

“What’s the problem? You sent out another email in August that Blaine and his partner had just adopted, and that was his.”

“It’s Kurt.”

Noah frowns and stops. “What about him?”

“Do you remember his goal?”

Noah has to think for a few minutes before he starts to remember what Kurt had said on that long ago early summer night. “Legally married by thirty. Which, it’s legal in all fifty states now.”

“Right. But Noah, did you remember that Kurt’s the oldest of all of us?”

“Right, he has a May birthday.” He stops again. “Wait, he’s going to be thirty next year.”

“And he doesn’t even have a boyfriend!”

“No, that’s true,” Noah agrees. “I’m still not sure where I come in. I don’t really know anyone to set him up with.” It’s true, too; a few weeks ago, he’d halfheartedly run through the people that he knew that were the right gender and orientation, not to mention single, and came up more or less empty. 

“No, of course not,” Rachel says dismissively. “But _you_ are available.”

“Yeah, I’m—wait, Rachel, you can’t just marry us off!”

“Of course not.” Noah starts to breathe a sigh of relief before she continues. “You’d want to date first. You should probably agree to let him see other people for at least a few months, just in case someone better comes along.” Noah scowls; yeah, maybe he’s not the best catch ever, but Kurt—anyone, rather—could do a lot worse. “And then by January or February, you could propose, and while it would have to be a rather hasty wedding, I’m sure you could still manage to finish it before Kurt’s birthday!”

“I think Kurt meant that he wanted to be married to someone he was in love with, Rachel. Not that he’d marry just anyone to get a ring on his finger.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you two aren’t in love, but you might be compatible at the very least.”

Noah sighs. “Look, Rachel, it’s great you want to help Kurt out, but why don’t you focus on helping someone else out for awhile?”

“Well, I would but.” She bites her lip. “Kurt’s the only one who hasn’t reached his goal!” she blurts out. “I don’t think anyone else realizes because they don’t have the complete list. Just, please, think about it, Noah.”

With that, she turns and heads back in the direction opposite of Noah’s building, leaving Noah shaking his head. He pulls out his phone and dials Tony’s number, ready to leave a message. “Hey, it’s Noah. Ask Q about the ‘by thirty’ goals and have her fill you in, then give me a call?”


	5. Chapter 5

The problem with Rachel’s idea isn’t that it’s dreadful. The problem with Rachel’s idea is that Noah had finally started to come to terms with the idea of watching Kurt date someone else, and now Rachel’s reminded him that there’s a chance of Kurt being _married_ to someone else within a year. It also serves to remind Noah nearly every morning of the fact that yes, actually, he _is_ attracted to Kurt. It’s tempting to change his schedule deliberately and let Kurt know he won’t be around as many mornings. Maybe one of the other regulars would start talking to Kurt then, and the two of them could hit it off. It’s tempting, but it’s not a game he’s going to play; even if it doesn’t backfire on him, there’s too many ways for Kurt to interpret such an action. 

Tony doesn’t call for over a week, which is fine with Noah, actually, and he’s starting to regret even leaving the message. Sure, Tony knows him well, and will have a perspective on the whole goals-thing, but Tony already knew too much about Kurt before. Calling Tony, Noah decides, might not have been his wisest moment. 

It’s too late, though, because nearly two weeks after Noah left the message, Tony calls as Noah’s headed out of the office for the night. “Hello?”

“Enjoying your new client?”

“Enjoying the long hours, more like,” Noah contradicts. 

“I bet!” Tony laughs. “You headed home or do I need to call back?”

“Walking to the subway,” Noah admits. “I never should have left that message.”

“Yeah, probably not. Quinn gave me a good rundown on the overall thing, and how you’re all supposed to help each other achieve your goals. Pretty neat idea. Maybe you mentioned it even, before. The thing is, from what Quinn remembered, you’ve reached your goal.”

“Yeah, the goal I pulled out of my back pocket,” Noah snorts. 

“So the only other reason you’d be thinking about that is if someone else needed help with their goal.” Tony sounds smug. 

“Rachel,” Noah starts, then stops. “Rachel thinks I should.”

“Of course, that made me wonder who hadn’t achieved their goal, so Quinn tried to remember and tracked down the original list. Are you being asked to lead an intervention against flattops?”

“You’re hilarious, Tony.”

“I do try. That only leaves one other person.” Tony pauses. “Oh, yeah, you never should have called me. Funny how there’s only one person, and that goal is related to his personal life.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s hilarious. So funny.”

“You have to admit it kind of is,” Tony argues, laughing. “Maybe not the funniest thing ever, but still, pretty damn funny.”

“Yeah, I really love the idea of _marrying_ someone when they’re doing it just to accomplish a goal they set eleven years ago!”

Tony’s quiet for a moment, and Noah starts to think maybe he should apologize or something, when Tony starts speaking again. “Yeah, okay,” he says quietly. “I get it. I don’t think you’d go through with that, though. It’s just an excuse, Noah. Just a little push.”

“Just a little push with even more consequences to consider than before.” Noah sighs and finally maneuvers into a seat on the train. “Not to mention he’s going to think I’m only doing it because of those stupid goals, too.”

“Maybe not a wedding, but a date? Probably,” Tony admits. “Yeah, okay, this is a great big mess that Rachel’s gotten you into. Well. Why don’t you wait until Thanksgiving. See how you feel about all of it then.”

“And keep thinking about it every single morning when I run into him at Starbucks?”

“Go to a different Starbucks.”

“I can’t do that,” Noah answers automatically. 

“Yeah, you’ve got it bad, Noah Puckerman.” Tony laughs. “Just remember, if this Rachel’s trying to convince you, she’s probably got a plan B.”

“Let’s be brutally honest. I was probably already plan C or D.”

“You should call up Sam and see what he says. Drink a beer with him when you go see your family at Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Noah acquiesces. 

“And think about how you’d feel being the guy that ‘speaks now’ at his wedding to someone else.” Before Noah can formulate a response to that, Tony ends the call. 

“Son of a…!” Noah sighs and shakes his head. Fucking bastard Tony, getting the last word like that. “See if I ask you to be in my wedding, whenever it ends up being,” he mutters at the phone irritably. 

 

“Any plans for Thanksgiving?” Kurt asks a few weeks later. 

“Flying out next Wednesday to Ohio,” Noah admits. “Didn’t the last two years, so I figured I should. Doing the whirlwind tour: Lima on Thursday and part of Friday, catching up with Sam the rest of Friday and Saturday until I fly back.” Tony’s suggestion hadn’t been a horrible one, though Noah is pretty sure Sam doesn’t have a clue about the other thoughts that have been in Noah’s head for a few months. Either way, if he talks to Sam at his house or anywhere in Columbus, he’ll feel more anonymous than he does in the city, which is probably some kind of weird irony or something. “You?”

“Wednesday as well, though I’m flying back Sunday evening. If I miss Black Friday, I might as well stay the weekend.”

“Do you have to get some kind of special dispensation from the fashion editors’ society, to miss Black Friday?” Noah teases. 

“Oh, definitely. Paperwork in triplicate.” Kurt grins. “I have to carry a copy in my wallet all of Thanksgiving weekend, and make a ritual sacrifice of last season’s least-favorite scarf.”

“Well, as long as it’s _least_ -favorite.” Noah laughs. 

“Exactly. Oh!” Kurt stops as they’re about to leave. “I keep forgetting to mention. Finn finally sold the pizza place. So he’s heading out here in January.”

“Wedding?”

“They’re going to do a courthouse ceremony when he gets here, and then a reception in June.” Kurt shrugs. “I think Finn wanted to avoid any month associated with his disastrous first nuptials, which ruled out February, March, and April all.”

“April?”

“Divorce was finalized in April.”

“Ah, gotcha. Well, good for him.” Noah frowns. “Can’t remember her name, but she’s happy, I’m guessing?”

“Elisa, and yes, definitely. Actually she and I are on the same flight on Tuesday, and I anticipate a few hours of The Finn Show.” Kurt smiles good-naturedly, though. “And did Rachel stop bugging you ever?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Noah quickly takes a sip of his coffee. “Why?”

“I’ve started getting messages from her now.” Kurt sighs. “Like you, I’d worry that someone had _died_ or something, but on her elaborate contact diagram, she’s neither my first or second contact, so no doubt she’s just being annoying.” Noah scrutinizes Kurt’s profile for a moment, wondering if Kurt remembers his goal, remembers Rachel’s insistence that they would _all_ make their goals into reality, and if he realizes why Rachel’s calling. 

“Yeah,” Noah manages to say before the silence can stretch too long, or Kurt can notice his focus. “Maybe she’s not in a show right now and she’s just bored. If you ignore her long enough, maybe she’ll move on to someone else.”

“One can only hope.” Kurt shakes his head ruefully. “And now I’m off to explain to the editor in chief why, once again, I don’t have a plus one.” He looks strange for a moment, like he’s considering saying something else, then shakes his head and falls silent. 

“I hear you,” Noah laughs. “Reb thinks my refusal to bring a random date is a personal affront at times. Happy partnered people.”

“They are the worst. I expect I’ll only get a few months before Finn starts trying to find me someone again.”

“Maybe he’ll be in honeymoon phase for a little longer than that.”

“I will devoutly hope.”

Noah looks around the plane the next Wednesday, absently hoping that maybe he and Kurt ended up on the same flight again, but the plane is packed and he doesn’t see Kurt before the plane starts to take off. Thanksgiving is what he expected, his sister full of chatter about the vet schools she wants to apply for next year, which are pretty spread out across the country. Her main point seems to be that she doesn’t want to stay at OSU for vet school, which Noah can understand. The rest of the discussion is about the GRE and preparing for that, and Noah’s content to just listen to her talk to their mom about all of her plans. 

When he gets to Columbus, Sam barely lets him throw his bag into the guest room before they’re heading out to a bar, watching a football game and talking about nothing of substance. 

“So a few weeks ago, Rachel tracks me down.”

“Yeah?” Sam takes a drink of his beer. “What’d she want?”

“She’d been leaving messages for a month or two but I just ignored ‘em. Turns out she’s still worried about all of those ‘by thirty’ goals getting accomplished.”

“Haven’t most of them been?”

“Well, technically Santana has to turn thirty without the flattop or the jicama, but other than that, yeah, all but one.”

“So why’d she track you down?”

Noah sighs and downs the rest of his beer. “She wants me to ‘help’ it become reality.”

“Who’s is it?”

“Kurt’s.”

Sam screws up his face, obviously trying to recall what Kurt’s goal was. “Oh, right, I guess— _wait_ , like she wants _you_ to—!”

“We did all promise to help each other when we could.”

“That’s a little more than just help,” Sam chuckles. 

“Oh, she wanted us to date first, except I was supposed to be fine with it not being exclusive dating. In case someone better came along.”

“Ouch, she said that?”

“Please, this is Rachel.”

“Good point.”

“I figure I was already plan B or plan C. Problem is, she’s moved on to trying to talk to Kurt herself.”

“Yeah? Just because you told her no, she said she was going to do that?”

Noah shakes his head. “Nah, I never really told her anything except that she was nuts. And that was a few weeks ago, but then last week Kurt said Rachel was trying to get in touch with him.” Sam gives him a weird look. “Our offices are diagonally across from each other, just about,” Noah continues. “Same Starbucks.”

“Oh, funny.” Sam shrugs. “Guess you should warn him, though. I mean, he’s not going to be offended that you don’t want to date him.” Sam pauses. “Wait. You didn’t say that, did you?” Noah just shrugs. “Okay, different conversation.” Sam sets down his beer and turns towards him. “When’d _that_ happen?”

Noah shrugs again. “Just one of those fleeting thoughts, really. And then, yeah, I see him most days. But I wasn’t—I don’t have that many friends in the city that aren’t connected with work somehow, for starters.” He takes another drink of his beer. “It was just a thought, which I’d more or less gotten out of my head, and then.”

“And then Rachel, who wanted you to date him and convince him to marry you just so she could check off his goal as completed. Nice.” Sam shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s a mess, dude.”

“Right.” Noah sighs. “I need to let him know before Rachel does. I didn’t expect her to start calling him.”

“Does she not realize how that seems? I mean, not only is she going to emphasize that he’s not reached his goal, but it’s a personal goal, not professional, and then that he’s the only one?” Sam shakes his head. “She never has grown up, has she?”

“I think by now it’s not growing up, but a character flaw.” Noah drains his beer. “So, yeah.”

“What if he asks you why you told her no?”

“Guess I’ll have to put all my cards on the table.”

 

Still, Noah waits until the next Thursday, when Kurt brings up Rachel again, irritated. “I wish she’d just stop calling. She never leaves a message beyond ‘Call me so we can catch up!’ but I don’t really want to catch up.”

“Yeah, I think I know why she’s calling you,” Noah admits. 

“You do? Tell me, please, so I can tell her to stop bothering me about it.”

Noah purses his lips. “Kind of a strange story. You free for lunch anytime soon?”

“Saturday?” Kurt says wryly. 

“Yeah, okay, I could do an early lunch, maybe. You have a place in mind or you want to come over to Brooklyn?”

“Oh, if you have a good place to recommend,” Kurt nods. “Brooklyn’s good. Is 11:30 early enough?”

“Yeah, that’d be good.” They make arrangements on where to meet and move on to other topics, and it’s not until Noah’s waiting on the elevator that he wants to kick himself. Such a great idea, asking Kurt to lunch to discuss how Rachel wants the two of them to go out on dates. 

Still, he meets Kurt on Saturday and they each order a sandwich, sharing an olives and pickles plate while they wait for their order. “So you know why Rachel’s calling me?”

“Well.” Noah pops an olive in his mouth to stall. “She stopped calling me because she tracked me down. I was having lunch with Andy, left the restaurant, and there she was on the sidewalk, lying in wait. Probably our intern at work told her where I was.” He sighs. “I basically told her there was encouraging or helping, and there was meddling, and she needed to drop it. Obviously, she didn’t.”

“Wait.” Kurt narrows his eyebrows. “It’s the same thing, then? Why she was tracking you down, and now me?”

“Aside from preventing Santana from acquiring a flattop in the next fourteen months or so, her self-appointed job is almost finished.”

“Oh.” Noah can see the moment it hits Kurt exactly what they’re talking about. “Oh, my god. She didn’t.”

“Define what exactly you’re hoping she didn’t do,” Noah says wryly as their food arrives. 

“I’m thinking something along the lines of ‘show up here on a certain day, I’ll make sure Kurt is there’.” 

Noah laughs. “Not quite that bad. There was the suggestion, however, that while we should proceed quickly through the normal sequence of events, I should be understanding of non-exclusivity at first. In case _someone better comes along_.”

“She said that to you!”

“Oh, directly to my face.” Noah shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure I was plan C. Maybe B, maybe D.”

“And now she’s calling me directly.” Kurt purses his lips. “No doubt I’m plan F, for ‘failed’.” He rolls his eyes. “I _am_ sorry she assumed—”

Noah gestures dismissively. “I’m just not sure why she thinks it’s actually any of her business.”

“Truly.” Kurt huffs and takes a bite of his sandwich. “Oh, god, this _is_ fantastic.”

“I know,” Noah laughs. “Best sandwiches I’ve found in either Brooklyn or Manhattan.”

“Definitely.” Kurt sighs. “Seriously, though, Noah, I hope you told her no.” Something of Noah’s thoughts must show on his face, because Kurt hurries to continue. “Not that I meant—see, now this is awkward, isn’t it? Not that I wouldn’t. Fuck.” He stops. “There’s no way out of this conversation without the awkwardness, is there?”

Noah wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “No. So I wasn’t even to mention it, but then you said she was calling you. And, well, that didn’t seem like a thing to be ambushed with.”

“No,” Kurt agrees, “and I do thank you for that. What I was attempting to say was that I hope you felt free to tell her to go to hell.”

“That I would have no trouble telling her.” Noah grins. “Don’t worry, you weren’t supposed to actually fall in love. We were just deemed ‘potentially compatible’.”

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”

“I’m not either, really.”

“Does the woman still not think?” Kurt rolls his eyes. “Why did she think her intervening would be a good idea?” 

“I don’t think she’s ever learned that intervening is, in fact, usually a _bad_ idea.”

“No,” Kurt agrees, laughing. “I don’t think she ever has.”

And just like that, the conversation shifts to other things, the awkwardness mercifully short, and by the end of the meal, Noah’s almost forgotten that he’d anticipated the entire meal being awkward. 

“These really are the best sandwiches,” Kurt agrees. “I should introduce you to my favorite breakfast place. It might be the only thing I would truly miss if I left the Upper East Side.” He pauses. “Not that I couldn’t travel there, it’s just utterly convenient to stumble in close to home.”

Noah laughs. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

“Next Saturday?”

“Sounds good.”

During the course of breakfast the next week, Kurt accidentally reveals that he’s barely done any of the traditional tourist things in New York: no trip to Ellis Island, no Circle Line cruise, no standing at the top of the Empire State Building. 

“That’s a crime,” Noah states, shaking his head as they finish their meal. “I haven’t hit everything, but still. Nothing?”

“What haven’t you done, then?”

“Ellis Island,” Noah admits. “My sister wanted to go, but we’ve usually run out of time when she’s visited.”

“So we’ll go next Saturday, and rectify the situation for both of us,” Kurt suggests with a slight smile, and Noah agrees. 

By the end of the month, spending Saturday with Kurt is just a thing that Noah does now, just like having coffee with him most mornings and talking through their workouts on Sunday afternoons, and even though the last Saturday of the year is also New Year’s Eve, they make plans for it the week before, and Noah doesn’t really think much about it beyond that. 

“Are you coming to the party?” Reb asks on Thursday. “Olivia wants everybody there. She says everyone who’s anyone in the music industry and the entertainment media both are going to be there.”

“Yeah, I’ll put in my appearance, I guess.” Noah grins ruefully and shakes his head. 

“Bringing anyone? What about that guy you talk to at Starbucks all the time?”

“Kurt? He might be coming, I guess. He works over at _Flash_ , but that’s more fashion?”

“Kurt _Hummel_?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“He’s one of the youngest managing editors of any magazine, digital or print, ever. I had no idea you knew him.” Reb narrows his eyes. “How do you know him? Is it true that he went to high school with Quinn Fabray?”

Noah laughs. “I went to high school with him. Yeah, and with Quinn. We were all in glee club together.”

“Get out of here!” Reb gapes at him before chuckling ruefully. “You never said. Any other hidden famous people in your high school?”

“Nah, not to speak of,” Noah says. “I mean, Rachel’s been in some Broadway flops, but they have _all_ flopped. And Mercedes made top eight on _American Idol_ years ago. Not really sure what she’s doing now, actually.” Noah shrugs. “I have no idea what most of them are doing, to be honest. They could be famous in their areas of expertise and I just have no idea.”

“My brother would kill if he knew you knew Kurt Hummel.” Reb shakes his head. “Small world.”

“How’d you think I ended up with Graham Ayers?” Noah grins. “She was at Yale with Quinn.”

“Damn. That’s some friends in high places.”

The New Year’s Eve party is packed. There’s a bunch of people that Noah’s supposed to make nice with, he’s sure of it, and Olivia spirits all of them around making introductions for at least half an hour. “Oh, and that’s Kurt Hummel of course. _Flash_ doesn’t do much with music, but his story is so impressive.”

Kurt looks up and across the room as Olivia finishes speaking, and rolls his eyes very discreetly at Noah, smirking. Noah snorts and shakes his head as Kurt walks over. “Enjoying yourself, Noah?”

“At least I’m not hungry.”

“True.”

Noah grins at Olivia. “Kurt, this is Olivia Westing, who owns Elliot & Turner. Olivia, Kurt Hummel.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. Noah, you didn’t mention you knew Kurt.”

“They went to high school together,” Reb pipes up helpfully. 

“Yes, we did,” Kurt agrees. “Noah, I came to snag you, though. I was talking to Lisa earlier and realized the two of you should definitely chat.” He pulls Noah with him, and Noah grabs a glass of champagne from one of the circulating waiters. “I hate New Year’s Eve,” Kurt adds in a lower whisper. “I was excited the first year, but this party is just _too_ big.”

“It is a little crowded. Who’s Lisa?”

“Lisa Richards, the new managing editor at _Boom_? And no, I don’t know why all the digizines have verbs as names.” Kurt laughs. “But I was talking to her when I first got here and realized she and you might come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.” He stops in front of a red-haired woman. “Lisa, Noah Puckerman. Noah, Lisa Richards. Lisa, Noah manages Graham Ayers, as well as some other acts.” He turns to Noah. “And now I’m going to go schmooze because, as you say, don’t mix friends and business.” 

Noah laughs. “Exactly.” He turns to Lisa and shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” Lisa smiles slightly. “I was telling Kurt earlier that I wished I could land some kind of exclusive interview.”

“Ah-ha. Yeah, I was telling Kurt earlier that Graham was looking for more media exposure beyond the paps and standard news stories.” He grins. “Kurt always has thought he was clever. Most of the time, he’s been right.”

Noah figures this kind of thing is exactly why Olivia had all of them there, because an hour later, not only has he set up an exclusive interview with cover shoot for Graham with _Boom_ , but they were overheard talking, and he’s managed to make a few other contacts and deals both for Graham and some of his other clients. 

The rest of the night passes in the same fashion, to the point that he’s not exactly sure when midnight was, and he collapses into bed a little after two, groaning when he remembers that he has brunch in the morning with Quinn, Tony, Graham, and Graham’s partner. 

 

“Oh, you should have brought someone with you,” Graham admonishes Noah when he arrives. “We didn’t mean for you to be the odd man out.”

Tony laughs. “Good luck getting that man to date. Almost three years I’ve been trying.”

“Which is an exceptionally odd turnaround from high school, you have to admit,” Quinn needles him with a smile. “Maybe your ‘mojo’ really was in that ridiculous mohawk.”

“Hey.” Noah frowns. “Don’t diss the ‘hawk. I still miss it sometimes.”

Graham’s partner laughs. “I would pay good money to see a picture of that.”

“Oh, there are plenty on the internet,” Quinn says dismissively. “A few of our friends in high school were obsessed with documenting our lives in video and still photography.”

“What’s actually surprising is that more of them haven’t made their way into the news,” Noah says, nodding in Quinn’s direction. 

“Well, you’ll have to show me, Quinn,” Graham says, laughing. “And then we’ll find Noah here someone to bring to brunch next time.”

“Probably couldn’t get him to take advantage of it,” Tony teases. “Had the perfect set-up a couple of months ago and didn’t take it.” 

Noah sighs and glares at Tony over his coffee cup. “It was _not_ a perfect set-up, not by a long shot. And I told you—” He cuts himself off abruptly. 

“You didn’t tell me about this, Tony,” Quinn says, setting down her menu. “What’s that about?”

“Oh.” Tony looks between Noah and Quinn suddenly, like it only now has occurred to him that Quinn _knows_ Kurt. Sure, Quinn had to have figured out why Tony was asking about the goals, but at least there’s a few things still not being spread everywhere. “Just a coincidence. More like, uh, four months ago, right, Noah?”

“Yeah,” Noah nods, thankful Tony had the sense to alter the timeline a little. “It wasn’t anything. I mean, it could have been, but too many things could have gone wrong, so.” He shrugs. “It’s okay. Really.”

He keeps telling himself that, anyway, keeps trying to convince himself that he’s just glad to have a friend nearby to spend time with. He tries to pretend that he’d be fine with Kurt starting to date someone, or worse, marrying someone. And maybe if he had time, that’d be true. Maybe if he had time to find someone else, it’d be true. But he knows Kurt, or at least he once did and now he does again, and Kurt won’t let himself be the only one who doesn’t make his or her goal if he can find a way around it. Noah figures it’s a matter of time before he’s introduced to a boyfriend. 

“Don said he met someone at work that you might like,” Tony says, clearly still trying to shift the conversation. 

Noah groans anyway. “I’ve told you, I don’t want to date someone that works in the same business.”

“Nah, just the same building. Let Don set you up, man. It can’t hurt.”

By the time brunch is over, the other four have badgered Noah into texting Don and agreeing to go on a date with the person that works in the same building. Noah’s pretty sure it’s a mistake, but maybe he’ll end up extraordinarily lucky and this girl or guy—Tony isn’t sure which—will at least distract him for the next few months. 

What Noah wasn’t really expecting was the strange look on Kurt’s face when he mentions it the next morning. It disappears quickly, though, and by Friday morning, Kurt tells him to have a good time on the date without a hint of anything else, so Noah chalks it up to something unconnected to him and tells himself to stop dwelling on it. 

Noah manages to finish up by 6:30, which gives him just enough time to change into a clean shirt and meet his date—now revealed as having the name Patrick, so Noah’s fairly confident that it’s a guy—at the agreed-upon restaurant. 

The date is a complete disaster, at least in Noah’s opinion. Patrick works in photography, apparently, and by halfway through the meal, Noah knows way too much about the different types of lenses available and why he shouldn’t ever use anything other than the most high-end cameras. Noah’s pretty sure that Patrick would be appalled if he knew that most of Noah’s pictures are not only stored on his phone and in the cloud, but also taken _by_ his phone. 

The death knell, though, is that Patrick wants to tag along to Noah’s scouting trip at a nearby club, and spends the walk there mentioning some friends that absolutely _deserve_ an agent and a contract. Noah doesn’t dare mention who his most prominent client is; Patrick would probably want an introduction. 

At the end of the night, there’s no kissing, but when Patrick asks if he’d like to get together for lunch on Wednesday, Noah reluctantly accepts. It’s something to do, and maybe Patrick was just nervous. Or maybe Don can find someone else to set him up with before Wednesday. 

“So how was the date?” Kurt asks over lunch the next day. 

“Good enough for not dating for almost three years?” Noah shrugs. “I don’t think he’s going to end up the love of my life or anything.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“I said I’d meet him for lunch on Wednesday.” Noah takes a long drink. “We’ll see. I may regret it. He kept talking about this band his friend is in.”

Kurt laughs. “I had one of those once. Friend of mine insisted the guy had nothing to do with the industry. It was true, except his roommate and best friend? Was a model trying to break in.”

Noah winces. “Ouch. Yeah. The problem is, seems like everyone in New York knows _someone_ in a band.”

“Or someone trying to make it work modeling, or to pay the bills with modeling while they wait for that big Broadway break.” Kurt snorts back another laugh. 

Noah smiles wryly. “Here’s to having connections.”

On Wednesday morning at Starbucks, though, there’s a weird look on Kurt’s face when they first sit down, and when they push open the door and walk back into the January cold, Kurt turns to him, looking serious. 

“Would you like to have dinner on Saturday?”

“Sure,” Noah shrugs. Yeah, usually they’ve been doing stuff during the day, but dinner sounds good too. 

“No, I mean.” Kurt pauses. “Dinner. A date.”

“Oh.” Noah stops and meets Kurt’s gaze. “Answer’s still sure.”

The corners of Kurt’s lips twitch upwards for a few seconds before he smiles fully. “Good. I’ll meet you beside the Rockefeller ice rink at 6.”

“Okay.” Noah grins to himself as Kurt walks across the street to his office, and when Noah hits the lobby of his own building, he sends a text cancelling his lunch with Patrick the photographer. Even if he and Kurt have a completely awkward date, it’s a good reminder that he does not have to torture himself with Patrick. 

“You’re in a good mood,” Reb notes when Noah walks through the door. “I’d ask if it’s a hot date, but I’ve learned that the answer to that question is always no, with you.”

Noah laughs. “For once, you’d be right, Reb.”

“No way!” Reb chuckles. “I am not going to jinx this. When?”

“Saturday night,” Noah answers. “So no office emergencies.”

Reb grins. “Got it.”

Noah still has coffee with Kurt on both Thursday and Friday morning, and they still meet at MOMA on Saturday morning for an old Soviet film, plans they’d made the week before, but when it’s over, they head in opposite directions and exchange grins. “See you later?”

“See you later,” Noah confirms, then heads down towards the subway. 

He’s still at home, showering and changing clothes, when his phone rings, and he answers when he sees Tony’s name. “Hey, Tony.”

“So Don just calls me, says you cancelled on a second date with Patrick. Noah, you’re never going to get past your.” He pauses. “Hiccup. If you don’t date.”

“I’m getting ready to go on a date right now,” Noah retorts. “Not with Patrick the photographer though.”

“Yeah, right.” Noah can practically hear the eye-rolling. “Okay, I’m outside now. Man, you can’t get past this whole Kurt hang-up if you don’t get back in the game.”

“Kurt hang-up, huh?” Noah slides his feet into his boots. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Stop trying to change the subject.”

“I told you, I’m getting ready to go out tonight. Meeting at 6 at Rockefeller.”

“So do you think you could let this guy? girl? talk to me on the phone? Prove that you’re really out on a date? I mean, that’s weird, talking to someone you’ve never met, but. I need some proof, Noah Puckerman.”

Noah lets himself smirk as he stands in front of the mirror. “Oh, he’s met you once.”

“Yeah?” Tony sounds temporarily stymied. “He has? You always said you wouldn’t date in the same business.”

“And I’m not.” Noah turns around and checks the clock, then grabs his wallet and heads out the door and down the stairs. “I will admit, I wasn’t the one who did the asking.”

“Hmm. Guy, we’ve met once, he asked you, you sound pretty upbeat about it.” Tony stops. “I’m having a hard time figuring—oh, fuck me.”

“No, that’s Quinn’s job, but thanks.”

“He fucking asked you on a date.”

“Maybe,” Noah admits, still grinning as he walks down the street. 

“ _Now_ can I tell Quinn?”

“It’s just one date.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re totally going to turn him down if he asks you out again. And you two never find a thing to talk about.”

“Shut up,” Noah grumbles, but he’s still grinning like an idiot, and he bets that Tony realizes that. 

“Yeah, yeah. You’d better call me or text or something tomorrow, Noah. And call Sam, too!” With that last rejoinder, Tony disconnects the call, leaving Puck to stare at his phone and shake his head. He half-expects a ‘congratulations’ bouquet to be sitting on his desk when he gets to work on Monday morning, and that’s merely what he suspects Tony’s ordering at that very moment. There’s no telling what Tony might do if Noah gives him any kind of details the next day. 

“So,” Kurt begins when they meet, taking Noah’s gloved hand in his own mittened one, “I suppose I might owe you a bit of an explanation.”

Noah shrugs. “If you want to explain.”

“Where to start,” Kurt sighs slightly as they walk towards the skate rental place. “As you know, I overanalyze things.” He smiles a little and Noah grins. “And I started replaying that conversation we had, about Rachel and my goal and what you had said, but more importantly, what you hadn’t said.” 

“That could be interesting, yeah,” Noah admits. 

“It was,” Kurt says, a little impishly. “Never really mentioned what you thought about the entire thing. Just Rachel and me. At first I thought that I was misinterpreting things, but the New Year’s Eve party reminded me. You have quite a set of rules in place in your life. You don’t want to cause drama. Am I on the right track?”

“Mmm. Yeah,” Noah admits sheepishly. 

“So I reasoned that I was going to have break the stalemate we’d managed to develop. And then you tell me that you agreed to let Tony facilitate a blind date, which.” Kurt takes a deep breath. “I couldn’t figure out your motivations, there, to be honest, but you weren’t overly enthusiastic about it afterwards. Still, it was a change, and—I knew I had to act if I was going to. So I did.”

“I’m glad,” Noah says. “Patrick, by the way, was even more of an idiot than I let on.”

Kurt laughs. “Fair enough.”

“You weren’t off-base, though. At all, really. I keep everything compartmentalized now. I… didn’t want to take the risk.” The risk of things going badly, the risk of losing a friend, the risk of being turned down—all of those risks, and Noah’s pretty Kurt understands what he means. 

Kurt nods slowly. “I can understand that.”

“As for letting myself get set up, I figured maybe I could distract myself for a few months, at least.”

“Distracted?” Kurt frowns for a second, then his eyes widen. “Oh.”

Noah shrugs. “Didn’t work, but I guess maybe I won’t need to be distracted?” He half-grins, trying to judge Kurt’s reaction. Kurt’s dimples slowly emerge, and he shakes his head no without saying a word. 

 

“To what do I owe the honor of a Sunday afternoon phone call, Mr. Evans?” Noah jokes as he answers the phone the next day. 

“I got a weird message from Tony, said I should call you, you have news for me?” Sam sounds puzzled. 

Noah snorts. “Tony’s a bit of a drama queen, if you haven’t noticed. He’s probably ordered a flower arrangement for my desk at work, too.”

“Uh, why?”

“I went on a date last night,” Noah admits. 

“Whoo! Hey, Jordan! Noah went on a _date_!” Sam laughs. “End of a three year drought, dude!”

“Good grief, see if I tell you people anything.”

“Tell me about her. Him. Whichever.”

“Um.” Noah grins after a minute. “Him. He’s not in the business, so that’s good, but he appreciates good music. Lives on Upper East Side, works in Midtown Manhattan, but he’s not snobby about Brooklyn.”

“Which would be the kiss of death,” Sam says soberly. 

“Hey, I love my borough. Shut up.”

“I know, I know! Okay, so. You asked him?”

“Nope,” Noah says smugly. “He asked me.”

“And what did the date consist of?”

“We went ice skating at Rockefeller and then he had reservations for us at the French place there. We got coffee and dessert afterwards, and…” Noah grins. “I just got home about thirty minutes ago, actually.”

“Holy shit.” Sam laughs. “Going fast, aren’t you?”

“Hey, we already know we can find plenty to talk about.” Noah shrugs even though Sam can’t see him. 

“And… are you seeing him again?”

“Lunch on Tuesday.” Well, lunch on Tuesday as a _date_ , coffee in the morning just like usual, except they’ll definitely stand a little closer to each other. 

“Couldn’t wait for next weekend?”

“Didn’t want to.” Noah lets himself smirk. “And neither did he.”

“So if we visit over spring break, can I meet him?”

Noah keeps smirking. “I don’t know. I mean, sure, I think he’ll still be around. But I’m not sure you can _meet_ him.”

“Why not?”

“Can you really meet someone when you already know them?”

“Noah. Seriously, I don’t know that many people in New York City, and—” Sam stops abruptly. “Noah Puckerman.”

“Sam Evans. Now that we know each other’s names.”

“I _know_ who you’re dating?”

“Yep.” Noah laughs. “You met him in the second half of 2010, in fact.”

“Well, damn.” Sam chuckles. “Just, damn.”


	6. Chapter 6

Noah is happy to be wrong about coffee on Monday morning; they don’t just stand closer, there’s hand-holding and hand-squeezing and a quick kiss before they head towards their separate buildings. There is a ridiculously large bouquet of sunflowers in his office, which makes Noah wonder, not for the first time, about Tony’s sanity, but he relocates it to the main entrance of the offices and goes about the rest of his day without commenting on the large arrangement, even when a few people ask where it came from. 

Tuesday starts out like Monday morning—fingers wrapped around each other and sideways glances, and Noah knows it’s sort of cheesy and ridiculous, but he still walks all the way to the front of Kurt’s building with him, and then they exchange a kiss that reminds Noah of why, exactly, he didn’t make it back to his apartment until it was already technically afternoon on Sunday. 

When his clock reminds him it’s 1:10 and he’s meeting Kurt downstairs in five minutes, he double-checks the automatic save—and wonders if he’ll ever get used to that, if anyone his age will ever stop the impulse to save—and locks his office behind him. “Where’s the fire?” Reb calls. 

“Lunch,” Noah responds with a grin. 

“Lunch _date_?” Reb asks, coming to his own door. 

Noah just grins. “A gentleman never kisses and tells, isn’t that the saying?”

“So there will be kissing.” Reb shakes his head. “Have fun, Noah.”

Noah just shakes his head and heads into the elevator without responding further, and when he steps into the lobby, he spots Kurt standing just inside the door. “Hey,” Noah greets Kurt, sliding his hand around Kurt’s.

“Hi.” Kurt grins and squeezes Noah’s hand. “Did you decide where we’re going?”

“Greek or Turkish?”

“Hmm. Turkish,” Kurt settles on. 

“Awesome.” Noah grins. “This place has the best hummus. Oh, and the lamb.” He shakes his head. “It’s not a lot to look at, but.” Noah shrugs. “I realized about a month after I moved here that I didn’t want to cook for one person, but I couldn’t afford the high-priced stuff. So I’ve sort of cataloged all the food trucks and tiny take-out places. The Turkish place has a few tables, though, and we’re later than the biggest crowd.”

The restaurant is a little ways from their offices, so Noah leads the way to the right subway stop. Noah used to eat lunch or dinner there at least twice a week when he was at the one store. And yeah, maybe he’s being unfair, but it is a bit of a test. The restaurant is clean but broken-down, and it’s not in the best part of Manhattan, but it’s good food, good people, and Noah’s never going to feel at home at the fancy restaurants, though he enjoys them occasionally and can do just fine for work. He likes Kurt, won’t let himself consider how much he likes Kurt, but part of him needs to know that there’s still the guy under there that he was friends with junior and senior year in high school. Yeah, Kurt was always fancier than the rest of them, but what Noah’s not sure about is whether New York’s made him even more fancy. 

Yeah, the places they’ve gone to on Saturdays aren’t all five-star, but the Turkish place is definitely a step down, maybe two, and Noah’s gratified when Kurt doesn’t turn up his nose at all, just studies the menu, orders his food, and jams into a tiny booth with Noah. “Oh, you weren’t kidding,” Kurt says after he takes the first bite. “This is so good.” Kurt grins. “Free on Friday for lunch?” After Noah nods, Kurt continues. “I’ll show you where to get the best burger in New York.”

“Yeah?” Noah grins. “Sounds good.”

They’re walking back to the train, arm in arm and being a little silly, when Noah turns his head to look at Kurt. “I know it’s ridiculously fast,” he admits, “but I love you.”

Kurt stops and tilts his head almost imperceptibly. If Noah didn’t remember the more exaggerated head tilts in years past, he might not notice it at all. “It is fast,” Kurt agrees, speaking slowly. “However, as it happens, I love you, too.”

They’re in the middle of the sidewalk, people walking past, but Noah kisses Kurt as he finishes speaking, and Kurt responds with equal vigor, everyone on the sidewalk still ignoring them. When they finally pull apart, Noah rests his forehead against Kurt’s. “Good.”

“Very good.”

Since they had to travel a bit for lunch, there’s the time on the train back to pull Kurt against his side, and Kurt smiles at him, angling his head so he can whisper into Noah’s ear. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Mmm. Meeting until about seven-thirty, I think,” Noah admits. 

“Come over and I’ll feed you a frozen meal from Trader Joe’s and we can watch _Crashcart Justice_ together and marvel over how far we’ve come.”

Noah laughs. “Sounds like fun.”

“And bring fresh clothes, too,” Kurt adds in a whisper. “Wouldn’t want to wear the same exact clothes two days in a row.”

Noah closes his eyes and lets himself grin. He’s pretty sure Wednesday night just became his new favorite night for this week. 

The credits are literally just starting to flash on the screen when Kurt’s phone starts the ring, and he stretches just enough to snag it. “Sorry, it’s Finn,” he explains to Noah, who nods. 

“Hello, brother.” There’s a pause, and Kurt nods. “Yes, I remembered. So Sunday at three? Just the two of you?” Another pause. “Oh, I have plans. Yes, I really do!” Kurt huffs. “No, I don’t need you to set me up on a date!” Noah tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, frowning. “Because I’m seeing someone, who’s frowning at me right now.” Noah has to grin a little at that and puts his head back against Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt sighs a little. “Fine. Hang on.” He puts his phone on mute and turns to Noah. “Finn and Elisa want to have dinner on Saturday night at six, in lower Manhattan. Rehearsal dinner, I suppose you could say. It’s just the two of them and Elisa’s sister and her husband, and then the two of us.”

Noah shrugs. “In other words, they want to figure out who you’re dating.”

Kurt snorts and then grins. “Precisely. You up for it?”

“Sure.” Noah laughs. “Was Finn one of the ones that thought Jeremy that I dated was a girl?”

Kurt looks thoughtful. “He… might have been? I thought I mentioned it one time on the phone, but well.” Kurt shrugs. “There were things I didn’t mention. Haven’t mentioned. He’ll be surprised.”

“Do you still work with Elisa?”

Kurt grins. “Yes. But she doesn’t know your name or seem to realize she’s met you before.”

Noah laughs again. “Oh, this’ll be fun, if she tries to describe me to Finn.”

“I know.” Kurt’s smile is a little wicked. They sit companionably for a while, half-heartedly watching the news, when Kurt startles a little. “I forgot to ask, did you have a client in the morning?”

Noah shakes his head. “Not on Thursdays. I bulked them up on Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sunday afternoons now.”

Kurt’s smile is wicked again. “Oh, good.”

They’re both _late_ to work the next morning, the first time Noah’s been late since he started the job, and yeah, there’s not official hours, but still, they expect to have seen your face after awhile. And yeah, Kurt can make _his_ own hours, too, but they either need to make it not a habit or just plan ahead for Thursday mornings, because by the time they hit Starbucks, they’ve agreed Wednesday nights like that need to be repeated. Weekly. 

On Saturday they head to an Islanders game, because they’ve managed to watch a Knicks game, a Liberty game, and a Rangers game already, and that’s all the professional sports that they can manage until spring and baseball. After that, though, they head towards the restaurant where they’re supposed to meet Finn and Elisa, and Noah does have a moment of nervousness. 

Which feels stupid, Noah thinks, because this is _Finn_ , but it’s Finn-as-Kurt’s-brother, not Finn who was once Noah’s best friend, and somehow that makes a huge amount of difference in Noah’s mind. It must for Kurt, too, at least a little, because the hand twined with Noah’s squeezes a little tighter as they reach the restaurant. 

The amusing thing is that Elisa’s there, and a woman who must be her sister, along with a man that, therefore, must be the sister’s husband, but Finn’s apparently running late or in the bathroom or something, so when they step into the lobby, it’s just Elisa who greets them. 

“Kurt, so glad you came.” She beams at him. “And I was right, it is the guy from Starbucks.” She approaches Noah to introduce herself, then stops. “Wait, we _have_ met before!”

Noah grins. “Yes, we have. It’s good to see you again, Elisa.”

“I’m sorry, I did forget your name,” Elisa admits. 

“Noah. Noah Puckerman.”

“Of course! Puck! That’s why I didn’t make the connection.” 

They’ve just finished being introduced to Elisa’s sister and brother-in-law when Finn arrives, and he stops beside Elisa without really looking at the others. 

“Finn, you didn’t tell me who Kurt was seeing.”

“That’s because I didn’t know, remember?” Finn says, then turns to actually look at Kurt and Noah. “I mean, why would—holy shit, Puck, what are you doing here?”

“You told Kurt to bring me.”

“No, I told Kurt to—” Finn stops himself for the second time. “Kurt, you didn’t tell me you were dating Puck.”

“You didn’t _ask_ if I was dating Puck.”

“Well, yeah, but still!”

“Actually, you didn’t ask who I was dating at all. You just told me to bring ‘him’.”

“I just assumed I wouldn’t know.”

“Now you know better.” Kurt shrugs and grins. “Shall we?”

They sit down before Finn starts asking questions about when they started dating and how did this happen and why didn’t Kurt _tell_ him? Kurt answers a few of the questions before deflecting the questions back on Finn and the very small wedding he and Elisa have planned for the next day. 

The meal lasts longer than Noah would have expected, Elisa’s sister and brother-in-law being more fun than Noah thought at first glance, and everyone’s a little tipsy as they finally leave the restaurant. Noah walks to the subway without thinking about it, and they’re halfway back to Brooklyn before it hits either he or Kurt that they didn’t exactly _talk_ about this, they’re just doing it, heading back to Noah’s place like it’s perfectly natural.

They have a short conversation the next day during which they ascertain that they’re both happy with the pattern they’ve already set up: coffee every morning, lunches a few days a week, all day Saturdays, Wednesday nights at Kurt’s, Saturday nights and Sunday mornings at either Kurt’s or Noah’s. And that is how they pass the rest of January and all of February. 

The shift from ‘the guy I’m dating’ to ‘the guy I’m in love with’ happened really quickly, but Noah can’t put a finger on when it shifts from ‘the guy I’m in love with’ to ‘my boyfriend’, and it’s probably not important, not when they’re happy and everything’s going well. They’ve even managed to have two minor fights and then make back up—and have really awesome make up sex—which is something Noah hasn’t managed in a relationship in a long time. 

For the first time in a long time, and possibly for the first time since high school, Noah’s not just enjoying the moment with the person he’s dating, he’s planning to be with them long-term, and enjoying those thoughts, too. More than that, there’s very little to hide; Kurt knows most of the secrets he’s always kept from other people he’s dated, out of fear of being judged. Kurt not only knows most of those secrets, but he clearly doesn’t care, or he wouldn’t have asked Noah on a date in the first place. 

The most surprising thing, though, is what Noah wouldn’t have expected; Kurt loves Noah’s dives and food carts. The hamburger place Kurt praised was actually a food cart, grease staining the wrapper and the napkins around the wrapper too. They unofficially embark on a quest for the cheapest yet tastiest meals in New York City, or at least in Manhattan and Brooklyn. 

When Noah gets a call from Graham Ayers during lunch one Friday, though, he answers it immediately. “Noah Puckerman.”

“Noah, hi, it’s Graham. I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“Of course not,” Noah responds. 

“Well, this isn’t really business.” Graham pauses. “You heard about Quinn’s interview tonight?”

“Yeah, she’s got some kind of big news or whatever.”

“Yes, well. I was in town, so I went with her. Noah, I don’t want to spoil her news, because I think she or Tony was planning to call you before the interview, but… She’s pregnant, Noah, and in the course of the interview, she talks about Beth. Including her first name, and that combined with _where_ Quinn is from…” Graham trails off.

“And Beth isn’t stupid,” Noah finishes softly. “Right.”

“I know she doesn’t know you have any contact with Beth, and she doesn’t mention where she’s from in this interview, specifically; however, it’s quite enough for an intelligent and curious thirteen year old, I should think.”

“Thank you for the heads-up, Graham. I mean it. Call me when you’re back in town, okay?”

“I will, Noah. Thank you.” With that, Graham ends the call, and Noah sighs heavily. 

“What’s wrong?” Kurt asks.

“Quinn’s interview tonight. She’s pregnant, and apparently, she’s going to talk about Beth.”

“Beth doesn’t know Quinn Fabray is her mother, I would assume.”

“No. Fuck.” Noah shakes his head. “I’m going to call Shelby. Beth should probably watch this, instead of hearing about it later.”

It takes a couple of calls and some discussion with Kurt as they head back to their offices, but in the end, it’s decided that Shelby and Beth are going to come to Kurt’s apartment that evening to watch the interview, the four of them, because Shelby has a commitment until thirty minutes before the interview starts, but it’s _on_ the Upper East Side, and Beth will be with her, and otherwise, they might not make it home in time. 

“Ready to meet Beth again?” Noah can’t help but joke as they sit in front of the television, waiting. 

“I suspect she looks a little different than she did through the nursery window,” Kurt says wryly. “Though I did see a few photographs when Shelby was at McKinley during senior year.”

“Yeah, just a little bit different,” Noah agrees, laughing. He sobers and sighs. “Thank you.”

“I told you it wasn’t a problem, Noah.”

“I know, I just. Still.” Noah shrugs. 

“I love you.”

Noah smiles. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

Shelby and Beth arrive just ten minutes before the interview starts, which doesn’t give them time to get particularly nervous, but does give Kurt time to reintroduce himself to Shelby and have a brief conversation with Beth, which seems to put all four of them more at ease. 

“So why are we watching this?” Beth asks. “I mean, I like Quinn Fabray all right, but why is it so important?”

“You’ll see, Beth,” Shelby answers her, and they all squeeze onto the sofa, Kurt’s arm around Noah and Beth on his other side.

It’s ten minutes into the interview when Quinn drops the news about her pregnancy, and the conversation is light-hearted for a few questions afterwards before it turns serious. 

“So,” the interviewer says, “you must be so excited, first pregnancy, first birth experience, everything!”

“Well, actually.” Noah can see Quinn swallow and pause. “It’s not my first pregnancy or birth.” She looks directly at the camera. “When I was a sophomore in high school, I was pregnant, and after she was born, her father and I decided that what was best for her was adoption. A friend of ours was adopted and had recently made contact with her birth mother; her birth mother adopted my little girl. Beth. I haven’t seen her since she was a year old, but I still feel like adoption was the right choice for all of us.” She stops and laughs. “I’m sure I just made every almost thirteen year old girl in America named Beth wonder if they’re the one I’m talking about.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Beth whispers. “Mom?” She turns to look at Noah. “Dad? Is Quinn—is _Quinn Fabray_ my biomom?”

Noah nods slowly. “Yes. She is.” 

“You went to _high school_ with Quinn Fabray?” Beth almost looks more alarmed by that than the other revelation. “Both of you!” She gestures to Kurt and Puck. “Because you said you were there when I was born, Kurt! Oh, God, Mom, _Rachel_ knows too?”

“When Quinn started getting attention, I didn’t want to tell you immediately,” Shelby tries to explain. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel if it were to be discussed at school, for instance. And of course I had no idea how Quinn felt about the matter.”

“Well, I guess you do now!”

“Actually,” Noah speaks up. “We don’t, exactly. One of my clients is a friend of Quinn’s, but when Graham visited my office, she saw my picture of the two of us together and realized I had contact with you. She went to the interview taping today and called to give me a heads-up. I don’t think Quinn realized you had enough information to put all of it together.”

Beth shakes her head slowly. “This is… I don’t even know what to think.” She sighs heavily. “Mom, can I stay with Dad tonight?”

Yeah, it’s not the first time that’s happened, but Noah wasn’t exactly planning on going home, not after all of this, and he’s not sure how to communicate that without being upfront. 

“That’s up to Noah, but you have to be home by eleven, remember?”

“I, uh.” Noah rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably, exchanging a quick glance with Kurt, who shrugs slightly. 

“Ohhh.” Beth has a knowing tone that Noah doesn’t really want to analyze, and she giggles. “I get it! You’re staying here.” She looks over at Shelby. “I guess I’m coming home with you after all,” she says, still giggling. 

Noah rolls his eyes, but Shelby just looks amused. “Yes, you are.”

As they’re getting ready to leave Kurt’s place, Beth turns around and looks at Noah with an expression that Noah swears is straight from Quinn. “You’ve never let me meet anyone else you’ve dated.”

“It’s a lot easier to explain who you were at age sixteen and who you are now to someone who knew you both of those times,” Noah says softly, looking straight at Kurt. Beth makes a noise of assent, but Noah doesn’t expect her to understand, not when sixteen is still a distant-feeling dream, a mountain in the distance, but the distance ahead and not the distance behind. Kurt nods just a little, though, because he does understand, and out of the corner of his eye, Noah can see a look of understanding on Shelby’s face. 

“Thank you, Noah,” Shelby says quietly, and then she and Beth are gone, Noah and Kurt still standing there watching each other. 

“I completely agree,” Kurt whispers into the silence. “Everyone has things that they aren’t particularly proud of. Or just do differently.”

“I love you.”

Kurt smiles slowly. “I love you too.”

They aren’t standing too far apart, just enough that two steps is all it takes for Noah to run one hand through Kurt’s hair and pull Kurt’s body against his. Their lips meet, hard and urgent, and Noah has just one thought: it’s a very good thing that Kurt’s apartment door automatically locks.


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt manages to get tickets for opening day for both the Mets _and_ the Yankees, and luckily the games don’t coincide, so they mark those off their list of New York things to do. The list isn’t actually written, but it sounds impressive to act like they have an entire list typed out somewhere or something. 

In April, though, just a few days after the baseball games, the guy from whom Noah’s been subletting informs him that the entire lease is up at the beginning of May, and he’s moving, so Noah’s got to find a new place to live. He tells Noah all of this early one Tuesday morning, and even after clients and a shower, Noah’s still scowling a little by the time he gets to Starbucks. Less than a month to find a place to live in New York City is _not_ enough notice. 

“What’s wrong?” Kurt asks as soon as he walks into the Starbucks, pulling Noah down to a chair before they even get coffee.

“Shane—the guy I sublet from—waited until today to tell me that, oh, by the way, lease is up on May first, and he’s moving, so have fun finding a new place to live in less than a month.” Noah sighs. “It’s not the money, really, I was going to start looking in another few weeks because my sublet was up this summer, but how’m I supposed to find a place to live in less than a month?”

Kurt winces. “That’s nowhere near enough time, no. I mean, you might be able to find a temporary sublet?”

“Yeah, I’m going to start looking later for something that’s available for two or three months, I guess. And then use those months to find something more permanent.” Noah shrugs. 

“That makes sense. Still, he dropped it on you this morning. That’s not. Well. I could find some choice words.”

Noah grins. “Yeah, I probably thought of some of them already this morning.” He pushes his chair back and stands, leaning over to kiss Kurt briefly. “Let’s kick the rest of this day into submission, and I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Sounds good,” Kurt laughs. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The next night, the last credits of _Crashcart Justice_ roll, and Noah has the brief thought that he always does, about how _weird_ it is that someone he knows is on television every week. Kurt clicks off the screen after the first five minutes of the news, which tells them nothing interesting, and pulls Noah half on top of him. 

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?” Noah says, mumbling a little. “You think a lot, Kurt. That’s nothing new.”

Kurt pokes at Noah’s side. “Be quiet. I was thinking about your living situation.”

“Or lack thereof?” Noah snorts.

“That too.” Kurt slides his hand under Noah’s shirt, already half-undone, and drags his thumb across Noah’s nipple. “Hear the whole thing, okay?”

“Okay,” Noah agrees. “What whole thing?”

“You love Brooklyn, and you don’t need to sublet anymore. I’m tired of this place, to be honest, and my lease is up in July.” Kurt stops, moving his thumb in a circle over and over. 

“All facts,” Noah says dryly after a moment.

“What if you moved in here, at the end of this month? It’s not Brooklyn. But we’d have three months to find a place that _is_ in Brooklyn. Together, I mean.” Kurt’s thumb stills. “If you want to.”

“Kurt.” Noah pauses, trying to gather his thoughts. The part about finding a place with Kurt in Brooklyn, yes, absolutely. The part about moving into Kurt’s apartment before that shouldn’t make him feel skittish, but he has to take a deep breath or two before he can respond. 

“I—it’s too soon,” Kurt say hurriedly, just as Noah opens his mouth. “Forget I said—”

“No.” Noah interrupts him. “No, that’s not it at all. You… hear _me_ out this time?”

“Okay,” Kurt agrees, whispering softly.

“The thing you don’t know about me from high school, the thing I don’t think even Finn realized,” Noah begins, “is we were poor. Not scrimp-and-save poor, but outright getting assistance from the government poor. My clothes were from Goodwill. I stole things from houses in order to give gifts. I never brought a lunch because my lunch was free. Remember when we went to serve food at the shelter senior year? I was terrified that the people there would recognize me. We never lived there, but we used the food pantry a lot and during the summer I’d take my sister there for a hot meal.” Noah sighs. “I have a thing about money. And other people. Even Sam and Tony think my whole thing with not dating for years was about a fear of commitment, or telling people about Beth.” 

“But it’s not?”

“Oh, sure, Beth’s a part of it. But. When I said personal training paid for my grad school, that was what I had saved after I sent money home to my sister. I had a huge savings account and it was never enough, even if I didn’t know what I was saving for. I used it and lived on personal training, and I’ve already built a lot of it back up, even though I just finished last year.” Puck frowns. “I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough. I’ve tried to figure out how much would be enough for me to feel okay, and I think… I think even if I had it, I’d be scared about what was going to come along and use part of it up. I truly don’t know if it’ll ever be enough. The thought of.” He stops. “See, _now_ you get my baggage.”

Kurt’s thumb starts to move again, and Noah unbuttons the rest of his shirt, letting it fall open. “Your baggage is that you have a hard time feeling like there’s enough money, and being at someone else’s mercy is difficult?” Kurt leans over and kisses Noah softly. “I can understand that. And no, normally I wouldn’t expect someone to do that. It’s just the circumstances.”

Noah relaxes a little and nods. “Circumstances suck a little bit for me right now.”

“Yes.” Kurt shifts Noah, then moves himself before pulling Noah close again. They’re facing each other now, and Kurt smiles slightly. “I was going to mention it later this week, actually. About looking for a place together this summer. I just thought we’d be looking at the same time, rather than having an awkward three-month gap.”

“Yeah, that was unexpected.” He looks closely at Kurt. “But you’re okay with Brooklyn?”

“I don’t love it here. I mentioned that last year, I think. It’s a place where I have been expected to live and don’t actively dislike it, but it’s not been the perfect fit that I once anticipated. You love Brooklyn, and from what I have seen of it, I think I could come to love it as well.” He grins wryly. “If you can stand to live in Manhattan instead for a few months. I’m sure that’s actually your reluctance. It’s okay, Noah. I can take it.”

Noah laughs. “You found me out, Kurt. That is completely, one hundred percent the reason.”

“See, just think of it as. I know. Did you ever take sociology?”

“Actually, I did, for one of my gen ed requirements,” Noah admits. “You want me to approach living in Manhattan as some kind of extended field study?”

“Immersion,” Kurt nods solemnly. “At the end of the three month time period, the investigator, one Noah Puckerman, will have thoroughly immersed himself in the living patterns of the subset of Manhattan citizens known as Upper East Siders.”

Noah grins. “You think I could get that article published somewhere? ‘A Brooklynite Takes On Manhattan—For A Short Time’. Something like that.”

“Maybe one of those free magazines you can get in the grocery stores,” Kurt says dryly. “Otherwise, no, I think you’re quite out of luck.”

“Dammit. Well, never did think journalism was going to be my forte,” Noah laughs. “Think I could find someone with some expertise to help me out?”

“Oh, no.” Kurt shakes his head. “Remember? Never mix clients and friends.”

“I’m not a client.” Noah frowns. “And I’m not _just_ a friend.”

“I suppose that is true. However, I don’t know of any sociological magazines or digizines. So I truly cannot help you with your budding career as a sociological journalist of sorts.”

“I guess I’ll stick to music management. And personal training.” Noah groans. “So tired of personal training. Maybe I should set a date that I’m going to stop. Stop taking on new clients. I never meant to do it this long, just. Back to the money in the bank thing.”

“Hmm. Yes, setting a retirement date would make sense,” Kurt says with a grin. “Awfully young to think about retiring, Mr. Puckerman.”

“I’ve already managed to have.” He pauses and mentally ticks through his various jobs over the years. “Four or five careers before age thirty.” Noah snorts. “That’s just ridiculous, is what that is.”

“Pool cleaning, music store, personal training, music management,” Kurt lists off. 

“You could probably count when I worked at Westwood and then that other place in Columbus separately, since I did more front desk and lifeguarding after awhile.”

“You’re quite the Renaissance man.”

“Jack of all trades, master of none, you mean.”

“Pfft.” Kurt waves his hand dismissively. “I think you mastered most of those.”

 

Since he doesn’t actually have to find a place, Noah starts moving things to Kurt’s the next evening, much to the taxi driver’s chagrin. Everything goes into one of his four pieces of luggage, then is unpacked at Kurt’s before the empty luggage is taken back. Kurt joins him after the first trip, so they go on the subway instead of by taxi. Not much gets moved on Friday, which Noah expected; Saturday is moderately successful, and by Sunday afternoon, all that’s left to do is hire a pickup truck to take the few pieces of actual furniture that Noah owns. 

The transition is easier than Noah expects; he leaves his keys on the table for Shane and feels smug about it. Living in Manhattan instead of Brooklyn is just as weird as he thought it would be, but it helps to remember it’s for a limited time. Waking up next to Kurt every morning is worth it, though, and by the end of the first week, they’ve had to rearrange their usual schedules and wake-up times; otherwise they’d start to get in trouble at work, Noah’s pretty sure. 

The other thing Noah does, very tentatively, is pick a day to stop doing personal training. He sets it further in the future than Kurt expected: April 30, 2025. He decides that he’ll stop taking new clients at the end of 2023, though, which means that he could, in theory, be done before that date. He’ll just have to wait and see, and the surprising thing is that instead of anxious, he starts to feel like a weight is off his shoulders, just by making the decision. 

 

Noah’s the one that brings it up. There’s a strange tension whenever someone mentions Kurt’s birthday, and since it’s the only tension between them, Noah’s determined not to let it do any damage. 

The truth is, as soon as he said ‘Sure’, there was only one way he wanted their dating to end, and the timeframe—well, time is fleeting, or so he’s heard, and people are always saying ‘carpe diem!’ like there’s a quota and they have to repeat it as much as possible before the quota is reached. 

“I would ask you anyway,” Noah says quietly, pausing his music and leaning up, nudging Kurt to put his computer down. “I love you. But I have this feeling that if I wait, you’re going to look back at May 2023 and ask why I didn’t ask sooner.”

Kurt moistens his lips. “Noah. You don’t have to.”

“Have I ever really done anything I didn’t want to do?” Noah asks, grinning slightly. “But I’m serious, Kurt. What happens if I wait for an acceptable period of time? Is it going to make anything more legitimate? More likely to last? I’m not doing it because of Rachel’s stupid graduation game, but you can’t tell me you don’t want to beat it.”

“No,” Kurt laughs softly. “I can’t tell you that, because part of me does. And then I feel ridiculous for caring about it at all.”

“If you’re ridiculous for caring, then does that make me even more ridiculous, for caring about it on your behalf?” Noah asks. 

Kurt makes a face. “Oh, fine. Fine. No, we’re not ridiculous. Happy, Noah?”

“I am.” Noah grins widely. “I am happy, as it happens.”

Noah realizes at three that morning, after he gets up to piss, that now he has to figure out a good proposal _and_ a decent if definitely small wedding, all by May 27. “Well, shit,” he mutters to himself, setting a reminder on his phone and wishing suddenly that managers really did have personal assistants. Maybe someday, he thinks as he drifts off to sleep. If he ever owns his own agency or something.

Weirdly, arranging a wedding is easy. There are lists of no-cost venues for small weddings, and Noah assumes they’ll be lucky to get ten people there on such late notice. Kurt’s actual birthday is on a Saturday, and Noah thinks it’d be pretty crappy to have a birthday and an anniversary the same day, so he arranges things for the Wednesday before, and starts making a couple of calls. 

It occurs to him after the second call that he hasn’t technically figured out the proposal yet, much less actually asked, but since they’re going at this weirdly, he can approach the whole process backwards. 

Noah spends way too many hours thinking about where to propose. He doesn’t want to take the easy way out and do it at home, or as part of a dessert course at a restaurant. Going up to the top of the Empire State Building or anywhere else high is cheesy as hell, and he’s not going there, either. 

When it finally comes to him, he feels stupid; he and Kurt are making plans to head out to Brooklyn one evening to look at a few possible apartments and as he’s talking with Reb about where the places are near, it hits him. The Brooklyn Heights Promenade. It’s a little cheesy, yeah, but it’s spring, and it’s pretty in the spring, and they’ll be near it _anyway_ , and over the course of an hour (that he should be spending planning his weekend listening trips) Noah comes up with a decent plan, or at least decent in his mind. 

It doesn’t take much prodding for the order that they’ll see the apartments to be set so that they’ll end a block from the Promenade. It’ll be pretty easy to suggest walking along the Promenade after they see the apartment, especially after they both decide they like that one. It’s two bedrooms, which they don’t really need, but the second bedroom could be an office, and the idea of working from home on occasion isn’t an unpleasant one for either of them, even though the amount they can do from home is still limited. 

Noah didn’t even tip the realtor off, but she still plays right into Noah’s hand, suggesting that they walk along the Brooklyn Heights Promenade while they think about the apartment, and Noah waits until they reach a particularly nice view of Lower Manhattan before slowing down and leaning against the rail, Kurt’s hand in his. 

“It’s within our budget, and this is—” Kurt begins, stopping when Noah places his finger over Kurt’s lips. 

“I have a question for you.”

Kurt raises his eyebrow, and the amusing thing, in Noah’s mind, is that Kurt genuinely doesn’t seem to get what’s coming next. There’s no anticipation or knowing look, just a little bit of curiosity and, moreso, irritation at being interrupted. “Well?”

Noah grins, because he can barely stop himself from laughing outright. “I just wanted to know if you were busy on the twenty-fourth.”

“The twenty-fourth of this month?”

“It’s a Wednesday,” Noah nods. 

“I don’t think so.”

“So, if you aren’t busy, do you think you’d like to marry me that afternoon?”

Kurt giggles, looking at Noah almost incredulously. “You planned the wedding before you proposed?”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Do you need an answer, really?”

“I _could_ have just told you when and where to show up, you know. You’re lucky you got a proposal. [And it’s even picturesque](http://imgur.com/snzdF).” 

“That’s true,” Kurt relents, turning towards Noah and placing his arms around Noah’s waist. “In that case, I suppose I can answer. Yes. And even if I had something else planned, I’d rearrange it to be there.” He smirks a little as he says the last sentence, and the only real answer Noah can give to that is to just kiss the smirk right off his face. 

 

Ten people ends up being an optimistic number. Noah’s mom and sister can’t make it. Neither can Burt and Carole. Tony says he’ll try, but he finds it amusing that they’ve asked him to not let on to Quinn why he needs to take a mid-week trip to New York suddenly. Kurt thinks it would be amusing—and Noah does agree with him—if the rest of the old glee club only knows Kurt completed his goal and not how. The only two exceptions are Finn and Sam, who both can make it, though Noah doesn’t even want to think about how Sam manages to get a day off so close to the end of the school year. Elisa can come too, but still, a wedding party of five is really small, so when Kurt suggests that Noah invite Andy or Reb, Noah does stop by Reb’s office the Friday beforehand. 

“Hey, Noah. Busy weekend planned?”

Noah shrugs. “Checking out a couple of bands, but trying to take it easy.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re off starting Wednesday for a week and a half. Exciting plans?”

“You could say that.” Noah grins. “Wednesday afternoon, if you can clear a few hours, you’re invited.”

“Invited for what?”

Noah laughs. “I should be mean and not tell you. But, no. The wedding.”

“Who’s getting married?” Reb looks confused. 

“I am.” Noah shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Why would I invite you to someone else’s wedding?”

“Wait, what?” Reb looks up fully. “You’re getting married. On Wednesday?”

“You don’t have to looked so shocked.”

“Wednesday’s not a normal day for weddings,” Reb protests. “And yeah, I figured things were going well, but you didn’t mention…”

“There’s a whole story,” Noah allows. “But yeah, we’re getting married on Wednesday. And then going on a honeymoon, but I don’t know where, so don’t ask.”

Reb laughs. “I wouldn’t try to find out and send you work. Not when I have your email and your phone number.”

“Nope, turning our phones off when we get on the plane,” Noah retorts smugly. “Emergency contact information is in my personnel file, and from there someone can reach me if absolutely necessary.”

“Damn, you’re good.”

“That was all Kurt,” Noah admits. “Anyway, it’s at two. I’ll send you the details?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reb nods. “Sounds great. I was going to tell you to have a good weekend, but I don’t guess I need to worry about that!”

Noah grins. “Nope, no worries about that.”

A part of Noah had worried about a small, nearly impromptu wedding, because he remembers Kurt planning his dad and Carole’s wedding, and he remembers hearing that Kurt had planned weddings for his Power Rangers as a kid or something like that. But time changes plenty of things, Noah is reminded, and they agree that investing time and splash on a wedding doesn’t mean much about the quality of the relationship.

Neither of them say it out loud, but watching the disastrous course of the Hudson-Berry nuptials influenced all of them.

So on Wednesday morning, they go have breakfast together, then walk around Central Park for an hour before eating an early lunch and getting dressed. Nice suits, nice ties, complimentary but not matching—that, Noah knew to leave to Kurt. There’s a quiet corner in the Park where the justice of the peace Noah hired will conduct the ceremony, and they meet up with Finn, Elisa, Sam, Jordan, and Reb thirty minutes ahead of time. It’s just five minutes before the scheduled time when Tony appears, and with that, they’re all there.

Elisa and Jordan share the duties of recording and photographing everything, and Finn presses play on the music at the right times. It’s simple, yes, and Noah pulled it all together in a matter of weeks, yes, but it manages to be elegant at the same time, and when they echo each other in saying “I do,” Noah’s pretty sure that he’s being completely truthful when he thinks that nothing else has felt quite so right. It’s unexpected, but somehow it feels inevitable, and when their lips meet at the end of the ceremony, he wishes they hadn’t agreed to an early dinner with everyone before their flight out of JFK.

“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” Noah teases as they reach JFK and unload their luggage from the taxi’s trunk.

Kurt grins and brings their lips together softly. “You’ll find out when they call our flight number, but does it really matter? The hotel’s where we’ll be at least the majority of the time, right?”

“Right.” Noah laughs and shakes his head. They check in and then wait for their flight number to be called, and Kurt pulls out his phone and their marriage license, plus a blank piece of paper.

“What are you doing?”

“Strategically covering up your name,” Kurt says with an impish smile. “Let’s not give Rachel any satisfaction.”

Noah laughs. “Fair enough.” Kurt takes the picture and then sends it to Rachel before tucking the license and the paper away. 

They’re already on the plane, headed towards Hawaii—which makes Noah assure Kurt they’ll spend a little bit of time out of the hotel—when both of their phones announce an incoming message. 

It’s from Rachel, Kurt’s carefully composed picture attached, but the subject line is, for once, blessedly short and simple. 

_All goals achieved._


	8. Epilogue: June 2025

Noah laughs as the four of them board a plane for Columbus. Finn and Kurt are having one of their ‘brotherly disagreements’, which happen every four to six weeks, and he and Elisa exchange a shrug and a roll of the eyes. It’s a pattern by now, and it’s too bad that they had to do it on the plane when they’re headed back to Lima for Rachel’s ‘glee club reunion’, but since it is a pattern, Noah’s confident they’ll be fine long before landing. 

Finn and Sam are still the only other two who know who Kurt married just a few days before his thirtieth birthday. The consensus, from what they can all gather, is that it’s probably someone Kurt worked with, and it’s amusing that the possible descriptions have little to nothing in common with Noah himself.

They rent a car at the airport in Columbus before meeting Sam, Jordan, and both of their kids at a nearby restaurant for lunch. “We can caravan from here,” Sam suggests during the meal, and there’s general agreement, so they head towards Lima, Kurt and Noah in the front while Kurt drives, and Finn and Elisa in the back. That evening, Kurt, Noah, Finn, and Sam go out to the same bar from three years earlier, which means none of them are exactly perky when it’s time to get moving the next morning. 

For reasons known only to Rachel Berry, their reunion is starting at noon, and when they arrive, the room is already filling up, which means that no one really notices Kurt and Noah entering together. 

Noah goes to get them both a drink, and on his way back, Mercedes stops him. “Noah Puckerman, married?” she says loudly, looking at Noah’s hand.

“Yeah,” Noah says matter-of-factly, nodding. 

“For how long?” someone asks, and Noah rolls his eyes. 

“Two years last month.” Noah expects _someone_ to make the connection, even if it’s just as a joking suggestion, but no one does, and he shakes his head. It’s not that either of them are ashamed; it’s just that it’s hilarious, since they don’t see any of these people regularly or interact with them very often. Except for Quinn, and keeping that one from her was Tony’s idea, more or less. 

Rachel declares then that everyone should sit down, because they should review their goals and celebrate all their accomplishments. Noah can almost hear the exclamation point at the end of her sentence as she continues, suggesting that people can share about their personal life or other accomplishments as well. 

“As you no doubt remember, my goal was to have a leading role in a Broadway production. And in fact, I’ve been the lead actress in no fewer than four musicals! None of them have been huge commercial successes, due to the fickle nature of the musical-viewing public, but I have a good feeling about the role I’ve just accepted!” Rachel almost pointedly doesn’t say anything about her own private life, instead looking to her right. “Blaine?”

“My goal was to have a partner and a child,” Blaine says, looking at the man with him with a fond smile. “This is my husband Evan, and we have one son together.” He shrugs slightly. “Professionally, I’m working in middle management which really isn’t as boring as it sounds. And I get to wear a bowtie almost every day!”

There’s a _lot_ of laughter about that, and it takes a minute before it’s quiet enough for Artie to speak. 

“I wanted to have a film shown at Cannes or Sundance. I’ve actually had both of those happen,” Artie says proudly. “And this is my fiancee, Suzanne.” Suzanne waves a little, looking almost overwhelmed, and Noah can’t really imagine what it would be like to be on the outside of their group. Even thirteen years later, they fall quickly into old patterns and inside jokes. 

“I owned a residential treatment center for addicted cats,” Brittany informs them all. “But business was pretty slow. So many owners don’t want to pay for their cats to get the help they need. So I started doing boarding services as well and now I have a whole chain. I still do treatment for the cats that need it.” She shrugs. “And I’m not seeing anyone right now. My last boyfriend said there was no such thing as an addicted cat, and he was mean about it, so I made him leave.”

“I just wanted to earn one televised award for acting,” Quinn smiles. “I think I said something about ‘even a People’s Choice’. Which was my first award, but now I have several. And this is my husband Tony, and of course the little guy on Tony’s back is Maxwell.”

Noah sat down with Tony on one side and Kurt on the other, and still no one’s made a comment, which is even more amusing than Noah had anticipated. 

“I remember pulling my goal out of my ass,” Noah admits. “I said I wanted a recording contract. The funny thing is that I did end up with a small one, but the really funny thing is that I have a whole lot of recording contracts these days, they’re just not mine. They’re my clients’.” There’s a couple of blank looks. “I manage several acts,” he explains. “At Elliott & Turner.” He waits for the blank looks to change to understanding. “As far as personal life, I’ve been married for two years and we live in Brooklyn.”

“You didn’t bring her?” Rory asks. 

Noah smirks. “Ask me that again in a few minutes.” He rolls his eyes at Kurt, who snorts before starting to speak. 

“My goal was to be legally married, preferably with legal standing in all fifty states. And yes, my marriage is legal in all fifty states. Professionally, I’m the managing editor at _Flash_.”

“You didn’t bring your husband?” Tina says. “I thought part of the point was so we could meet him.”

“As he has said, it’s difficult to meet someone that you already know.” Kurt laughs for a second. “I’m _sitting next to him_.”

There’s a moment of silence, when people look at Kurt, then over at Finn, who’s clearly with Elisa, and then at Noah, who just _told_ them that he had been married for two years. “Holy shit!” Mike exclaims, then claps his hand over his mouth. 

“You knew about this!” Quinn says to Tony, who laughs. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He thought it was funny,” Noah quickly says, because he is not going to get thrown under the bus for this one. Quinn’s been more than useful for business for both he and Kurt, actually, to the point that they aren’t sure if Quinn is a friend or a business contact. 

“Yes, well, this is exciting news,” Rachel’s voice cuts through the chatter, “but everyone can interrogate Noah and Kurt after we finish discussing everyone’s goals.”

“Interrogate’s such a foreboding word,” Noah whispers to Kurt, who grimaces and nods. 

“So, Finn?” Rachel says, her voice a little strained, and Noah thinks that maybe she should have moved on, like Finn did years ago. 

“My goal was to own a pizza parlor,” Finn says sheepishly, “and I actually did for awhile. I sold it before I moved back to New York and Elisa and I got married. I manage a restaurant now, which is actually a better fit, and I love it. Oh, and yeah, this is Elisa.” He grins. “And a few of you already know this, but we’re going to have baby in November.”

There’s a lot of ‘congratulations’ and Rachel looks a little pinched, but she doesn’t say anything, and Sam goes next.

“My goal was to buy my parents a house, and I did manage that, earlier than I ever thought I would,” Sam admits. “And I think most of you have met Jordan before. We have two kids.” He shrugs. “Oh, and since a few of you asked, yeah, I teach first grade.”

“Perfect!” Tina crows. “I wanted to get a terminal degree in whatever field I chose, and I did get my MFA in Theatre. I live in D.C. now. Not seeing anyone.”

It’s somehow unsurprising, though, that Mike’s sitting next to her, and when she mentions living in D.C., he straightens. “Really? I’m in D.C., too!” He grins at her before turning to the rest of them. “My goal was to dance at Carnegie Hall, which I did. I’m with one of the professional dance companies in D.C. these days. Also single.”

“I set my goal low,” Santana admits. “No flattop and no jicama. I had a few close calls with the jicama over the years, but I made it.” She laughs. “Chicago’s my home base, but I’m a flight attendant, so I end up plenty of places every month.”

“I wanted to be in the top twenty-four on _American Idol_ ,” Mercedes says, “and I made it all the way to the top eight! After the summer tour, I signed a recording contract, but most of my records have been Christian music, so I doubt most of you have heard them.”

It’s true, Noah would have to admit; he never even searched out what Mercedes was doing, but if he had, he would have dismissed it as soon as he realized the genre. 

“I wanted to find a job that would let me travel between the United States and Ireland,” Rory says, “and so I went to work for the Irish Consulate in Chicago, which is fantastic. I met my wife there, so she understands why I don’t want to devote myself to just one of these two countries. No kids yet, though.”

There’s a little bit of silence after Rory concludes, because they’re back to Rachel, who looks less thrilled than she did at the beginning of things. Noah realizes that on some level, Rachel had always expected to the most successful, professionally and personally. She had thought she had her soulmate during her senior year of high school; why wait to get married? It had been a box for her to check off, Noah thinks now, and be confronted with a roomful of seemingly happy and successful people must have been a shock to her. 

He drapes his arm around the back of Kurt’s chair and tries to get comfortable in his own, because the interrogations really are going to start soon. He leans over to whisper in Kurt’s ear. “No matter how bad this gets, remember: I love you, and we have our own hotel room not far away. We can walk if necessary, and still not strand your brother and Elisa.”

Kurt laughs. “Why do you think I made sure we wore appropriate shoes? Love you too.” Kurt gives him a quick kiss and then they turn to meet their first questioner: one Miss Rachel Berry, herself.


End file.
